


Out of Hand(s)

by Mytha



Series: Hands Together [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bodyswap, Canon-Typical Violence, Divine Leliana, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Groundhog Day, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Lady Knights, Lesbian Sex, Magical Shenanigans, Plots, Romance, Time Loop, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-04-20 04:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14252586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytha/pseuds/Mytha
Summary: Cassandra reunites with Leliana after months spent apart, but what plots have been brewing at the Grand Cathedral in her absence?She should not have left it until so late in the season to make her way out of the Anderfels and over the Orlesian border. Winter had come early – the signs were there in the frosty nights, the migration of birds, but Cassandra refused to see them. Each day spent scouting the Hunterhorn Mountains meant a better start for the Seekers once she returned in spring.She can hear Leliana admonishing her now, teasing about her sense of duty even as she doles out what tender kindnesses she has in store for Cassandra upon her return. Yet Cassandra has held her promise – she is returning before the first of Umbralis.





	1. 1

  
cover art by [sandalinbohemia](https://twitter.com/sandalinbohemia)

She should not have left it until so late in the season to make her way out of the Anderfels and over the Orlesian border. Winter had come early – the signs were there in the frosty nights, the migration of birds, but Cassandra refused to see them. Each day spent scouting the Hunterhorn Mountains meant a better start for the Seekers once she returned in spring. 

She can hear Leliana admonishing her now, teasing about her sense of duty even as she doles out what tender kindnesses she has in store for Cassandra upon her return. Yet Cassandra has held her promise – she is returning before the first of Umbralis. 

A muscle in her neck constricts suddenly, sending a shooting pain through her skull that joins the lingering headache already in residence: there is no denying it now, she has come down with a cold - payback for her athletic, sweaty pace on the road out of the mountains while icy winds found crevices in her armor. Cassandra groans and rolls her neck, hissing at the sting of the spasm. 

Even in Orlais the weather is foul, autumn is not golden, but stormy and wet. Most of her luggage is waterlogged after days of rain. She has been forced to leave her horse with a smith in the last hamlet she came through. She could not wait for it to be re-shod. Cassandra soldiers on. She is determined to reach Val Royeaux tonight.

At dusk she finds herself in the shadows of the Grand Cathedral, running hot and cold with exertion and what she hopes is not yet a fever. She has relied on her feet to keep moving through her weakness – kept her mind in control of the pain, tried to focus its dull haze into a single blazing needle-point through meditation and prayer. 

Once she approaches the Cathedral gates she is recognized and borne away towards her quarters. There she accepts the offers of blankets and dry clothes, waves away the offers of help and clumsily rids herself off her armor bit by stubborn bit, her progress agonizing and slow. 

Finally she sheds the last of her wet clothes, puts on a dry shirt and covers herself with blankets. This is how Leliana finds Cassandra, when all sense of time has escaped her and only her aching head has prevented her from giving in to sleep. She manages a pained smile as she sits up to greet her love. Though that is all she can manage. When she begins to search for words she comes up empty once again. The moment is suddenly unreal – being here, Leliana in the doorway, white robes hidden under the black cloak of the Nightingale. Familiar and yet, she has imagined this moment for such a long time it is difficult to accept that she is no longer dreaming.

Leliana seems as frozen as she is. A holy picture of an idol in black, red, white and gold. The firelight flickers and brings movement, brings life. It is a trick of the eye that Cassandra has noticed many times when, to her over-tired eyes, pictures of Andraste come alive with the movements of the flickering warm light of the altar candles as if breathing, shifting, watching her. 

“Welcome back,” Leliana begins. She finally returns the smile, walking towards Cassandra and unfastening her cloak. 

It drops away like water. The spell is broken. 

Cassandra extends a hand and Leliana is in her arms faster than she can prepare herself for. The hug is brief but fervent, and when she loosens her arms Leliana withdraws just so she can kiss her. They are careful at first, as if not sure that the other is not a mirage that will disspate at too rough a touch, but then Leliana shifts closer, straddles her lap and the kisses linger.

“You look dreadful,” Leliana sighs between kisses.

“I feel it.” Cassandra winces as her neck is pushed back. 

Leliana steps back and Cassandra has the eerie feeling of being examined, taken stock of in ways that see more than she cares to give away. She prepares for the the admonishment, gentle as it may be and readies a promise to take better care of herself – and a vindication of her actions: I hurried back to see you.

But Leliana's face softens as she moves to sit on the bed behind Cassandra. Her warm hands skillfully find the hard knot in Cassandra's neck. Cassandra grits her teeth but Leliana's ministrations bring more relief than pain. 

Her mind drifts and the knock at the door makes them both jump when it interrupts them. 

“Oh, I asked them to bring you dinner,” Leliana explains. She then slips away from her to intercept the servant at the door. 

It will not be thought strange for Leliana to answer in her stead, Cassandra surmises. Though only few people knew of their relationship they are famously close confidantes and old friends. 

Leliana returns with wine and spiced cakes, bread, cheese and apples, and wraps Cassandra into warm blankets, feeding her cake and sliced apples as she talks of Chantry news and fashions. Cassandra is lulled by her voice and the wine. Warmth finally reaches her core. She feels less feverish now, but the aches are still there, underneath. 

“... and to think he actually believes he took you up on an offer you made! The man is entirely too in love with his own opinion of himself. You should have seen Renette's face when he first showed up! It almost makes up for the headaches he has given me to hear her groaning at his idiocies. She really is quite a good replacement for you in that regard. Not that I could ever truly replace you.”

Leliana runs her fingers through Cassandra's hair, undoing the last fastenings of her braid and shaking it loose before toying idly with it as she goes on. 

“I have been asked to attend a sermon by Sister Margot tonight. I would make my excuses, but I know she has suffered a personal loss recently and I did promise her I would be there.”

Cassandra nods her understanding with a wry glance. “Then go. I promise not to leave you in pursuit of a Seeker while you are gone.” 

Leliana's laugh rings out like a bell. “Ah, you really are feeling better, my love.” She slips away from Cassandra with a parting kiss on her brow and picks up her discarded cloak. “Will you go to my quarters and wait for me? I have a surprise for you,” she adds with a conspiratorial smile. 

Cassandra arches an eyebrow. Leliana has left before she can think of a witty reply. She sighs and leans back. She is at once infinitely weary and yet roused by the thrill of Leliana's promise. 

She dresses and makes her way to the Divine's apartments. 

***

 

The water envelops her, soft and hot and tender. Cassandra closes her eyes and thinks of Leliana's embrace. Was this her surprise? When she had entered the apartments the bath had been waiting for her. She can feel the heat seeping through her muscles and bones, chasing the last of the frost away and soothing the aches and pains of the road. She savors it until the water grows cool and then quickly washes her hair before getting out of the tub. 

Justina's apartments looked out onto the grand courtyard of the cathedral, but Leliana has opted to take rooms more sheltered within the wings of the great building. The view is of roofs and courtyards. Cassandra draws the curtains, belatedly hoping none but the ravens will have seen her bathe or walk about the Divine's rooms naked. 

The bedroom is small, barely holding the velvet-draped four poster bed. Rich, dark-patterned tapestries adorn the walls, which are also decorated with many framed pictures and gilded ornaments. The impression on the whole is of having stepped into a treasure box. The faint smell of flowers and incense lingers. 

Cassandra smiles. It is makes her happy to see Leliana is allowing herself to take joy in some of the beautiful objects Cassandra knows she desires after years of austerity and self-denial in the uncertain times with the Inquisition. 

She finds one of her night-shirts and slips into it, grateful for her lover's sentimentality. There are books on a small bedside table and Cassandra picks up a small volume of devotional poetry and settles on the bed hoping she will keep sleep at bay with the contemplation of the poems.

Her limbs begin to feel leaden with weariness and, though duller now, the ache in her head is still there. The poetry is lovely, she can see why Leliana picked it, but much as she tries the words begin to lose sense for her, she cannot concentrate. She has read this verse again and again and keeps going back to it, failing to take it in. 

She thanks Andraste when she finally hears a heavy door open and shut and Leliana's familiar voice humming in the the next room. 

Cassandra is instinctively is drawn to Leliana's voice. She only makes it across the threshold of the bedroom. The sweet impact of Leliana in only the shift she wore underneath her Divine's robes surprises her and almost makes her stumble, but she catches herself – and Leliana – in time.

Leliana buries her in a flurry of kisses and they fall onto the bed in a rather haphazard tumble of limbs, Leliana on top of her, clinging to her with unshakable strength. Kissing, kissing, kissing – she knows not how long. Finally they are breathless and light-headed and the iron-grip of Leliana's thighs around her hips softens, as do her ministrations. 

“Did you miss me?” Cassandra cannot help but tease, giddy with exhaustion and the bliss of their reunion. 

Leliana laughs breathlessly and slaps her arm. “I see the bath did you good.” 

Cassandra groans. “I think I may survive this night.” 

“Pauvre chérie!” Leliana puts her head down on Cassandra's chest and snuggles up close to her. “You are very exhausted, of course. It is selfish of me to keep you up still, but I've longed for this moment.”

“As have I,” Cassandra whispers, playing with Leliana's hair. She is soft and warm, a living miracle Cassandra is blessed enough to be allowed to hold. 

“You should have sent a message ahead. I could have ordered fresh flowers.” Leliana's voice is tinged with slight indignation. “I dreamt of showering you in flowers upon your arrival.”

Cassandra shifts underneath her, reminded of dreams she has had. “That would have been...”

“I may yet do it.” Leliana slips her hand into Cassandra's, intertwines their fingers. 

Cassandra returns the gentle pressure. “I have no doubt.”

The impossibly large gift of time, weeks or months of the future in which she is allowed to be here – be with her love – is real now, stretches out around them like an intangible abundance of riches. 

Happiness suffuses Cassandra, dulling all the aches of her body as Leliana turns her head to press heated kisses along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, her jaw and finally her lips.

The way they move against each other is electric. Leliana's hands slip underneath her nightshirt and soon Cassandra is lost in the wanton sensuousness her lover's caresses. Leliana whispers endearments as she skillfully undoes Cassandra as only she can. 

Afterwards Cassandra watches entranced as Leliana slowly divests herself of her shift and underclothes, the candlelight paints her creamy skin in tones of honey and milk, an image Cassandra has often called up from her memory on lonely nights while on the road far away from her love. Oh, but she is lovelier still than Cassandra remembered.

“Oh!” Leliana exclaims now and rushes from the room. Cassandra immediately feels the pang of her absence and is also filled with absurd satisfaction as she remembers her earlier venture around the apartments after her bath. If she had not closed all the curtains who might now be witness to a naked Divine? 

Leliana reappears a few moments later carrying a somewhat heavy-looking small chest of dark wood. “A rather peculiar gift I was given recently,” she says, and her mouth twitches with amusement. “I am told it belonged to the estate of Divine Rosamund – though I have scholars eager to study it further. A curious relic in any case,” Leliana sets the chest down carefully at the edge of the bed and gives the top a quick caress before leaning towards Cassandra and whispering in a conspiratorial tone, “and rather erotic.“

Inside the chest is a sculpture, about the size of two hands. In the shadows of the chest, against the rich, dark velvet, Cassandra cannot tell what it is supposed to depict. It is smooth stone, dark and it seems to undulate in the flickering light. 

“Obsidian?” No, it seems finer than that. “What is it?” Cassandra reaches out towards the object in the chest. 

“It is a rare form, apparently.” Leliana takes the sculpture out of the chest and holds it up into the light. 

There are legs and arms. Cassandra tries to make her tired eyes focus on what she is seeing. Bodies. Two bodies entwined so closely it is difficult to make out where one ends and the other begins. They continue to shift slightly as the light reflects and Leliana turns them. The sight stirs something indescribable within Cassandra, making her shift on the bed and cross her legs. She glances up from the sculpture to Leliana's face, who is studying it with rapt attention, a beatific smile on her face. 

“Beautiful, isn't it?” 

“Not as beautiful as you,” Cassandra says and means it. She moves closer to Leliana and they watch the shimmering light work its magic on the sculpture together. 

“I thought of you when I first saw it.” Leliana's smile grows a little wicked.

Cassandra feels a corresponding jolt run through her body at the sight of it as she joins Leliana's hands holding the sculpture. It is smooth and warm, it is as if Leliana's heat has seeped into it. “Ah, did you?” 

Leliana hums. “My arms around you, your arms all over me. My leg between your legs, my love – your heat, your skin.” 

After that Cassandra loses her ability for coherent thought as threads of energy caress her skin, make her shiver and moan. Leliana is over her, under her and seeking friction against her hip, finally shuddering to a halt at her side. 

Exhaustion overwhelms Cassandra like a wave, pulling her under. The sensation of Leliana's hand in hers and the steady beat of her pulse anchor her before sleep finally claims her.


	2. 2

Cassandra wakes slowly, disturbed by a faint but persistent knocking that prevents her from going back to sleep with its irregular beat. She keeps her eyes closed as she chases another moment of languid oblivion. Her head feels a lot better and she carefully tests her body's agility with small stretches. She feels – not yet herself, but better, much better in fact than she would have predicted the night before. Is it possible that love really has restorative powers? She smiles.

After a while she hears noises, steps outside of Leliana's bedroom. Those must be her servants, come to light the fires and bring her breakfast. Cassandra knows by now that the tiny twinge of worry she yet feels about being discovered in the Divine's bed is unfounded. Leliana has efficiently told who must be told – and kept the true nature of their relationship a secret from meddling busybodies that would see it as an invitation to intrude in their affairs. They will make it public in time – when Leliana feels the opportune moment has arrived to do so. 

Soon after Cassandra feels movement beside her and hears soft groans.

“I think you gave me your cold, Cassandra.”

Cassandra feels a little guilty, more so for feeling so well herself. Leliana really sounds off, her voice throaty and deep. 

“I apologize,” she says and reaches out towards her love, opens her eyes still heavy with the vestiges of sleep. 

But something is wrong. The woman in bed beside her is not Leliana. She sees a flash of black hair, olive skin and recoils in shock, instantly coming fully awake and staring at – herself! 

She jumps up, out of the bed, away from this apparition. “What?!” Her voice seems impossibly high as panic hits her.

The woman across from her touches her own face, wide-eyed, then fixes her with a horrified stare. “Cassandra?”

“Yes. Who...?” Cassandra looks down at her body to find – creamy white skin, a tuft of red hair... “Leliana?”

“Yes.” A miserable croak. 

This is wrong, all wrong. “What happened?”

There is a knock at the door. They both jump at the sound of it.

“No!” The woman that is Leliana wearing Cassandra's body shouts hoarsely. “Come back later!”

“Most Holy, there are urgent messages-”

“There always are,” Leliana groans mutedly with a look at Cassandra, then resumes her shouting at the door. “Please give me a moment, Mila, I am late to rise today.” 

The accent is Orlesian, but the voice is all wrong. Everything is _wrong_! Cassandra shivers, feels anger and fear distill out of the initial panic. “Who did this?”

“I don't know, Cassandra.” 

This is surreal. Is it really not a dream? Her own hand is on her arm – Leliana reaching out to her. Cassandra feels a new headache begin to form. What are they going to do? 

“Put on my dressing gown and go out there and tell them to leave. Accept the messages, make what excuses you must and send them away, Cassandra. Cassandra?” 

Cassandra feels frozen to the spot. “I cannot.”

“Yes, you can. I have heard your Orlesian accent. Pretend you are me. Simply send them away – go!” Leliana throws her dressing gown at her and gesticulates a little impatiently as Cassandra puts it on. 

Cassandra closes her eyes and opens the door, fighting the ill feeling that begins to rise in the pit of her stomach. _Maker, restore me!_

“Most Holy.” The servant bows at her sight.

Cassandra tries frantically to compose herself. Swallows heavily. Tries to think of how Leliana would react. Leliana would likely know already who might have urgent business with her. After a while she settles on a simple. “Yes?”

“This came by runner from the Imperial palace.” The servant extends a scroll to her. 

Cassandra takes it and breaks the seal, unfurling the scroll quickly to hide her trembling hands. The signature of the Empress looms large at the bottom of the page. The text explains that Celene is going to arrive for a private audience with the Divine, will arrive at the Grand Cathedral imminently, wishes to talk about the ceremony of initiation of a Mother Zerlinda... Cassandra wishes fervently she possessed Leliana's memory as well as her body. 

“This is from the Empress,” she says loudly, hoping Leliana will catch on. “She is on her way to the Grand Cathedral. It concerns Mother Zerlinda.” 

She pauses, listens for a response. She can feel the servant staring at her. There is no sound from the next room – but still tapping, tapping on the window! Cassandra looks over to see three ravens outside the window. They seem to her now the very harbingers of doom. 

The servant clears her throat. “You were very late to rise, your Perfection. The Empress is due to arrive any moment and the Grand Clerics await you-” 

“I understand.” Cassandra replies, fighting down her panic, her mouth has gone dry. “Please give me a moment to... dress,” she finishes stiffly, gesturing for the servant to leave. 

The girl gapes at her. “Will you not need help, Most Holy?”

“No!” Cassandra near-shouts and tries to moderate her tone, tries to remember Leliana's accent. “I... I think I know how to... I will call if I need you.” _Maker, help me!_

“Then I will wait outside.” The servant shoots her a bewildered look, but mercifully bows and leaves. 

When Mila is gone, Cassandra returns to the bedroom where she finds her mirror image... Leliana with an expression even more difficult to read on her own face. “What do we do?!”

“Celene likely wants to stall the appointment of Zerlinda. She is not a Revered Mother yet. If it is done, it will be the first time that a dwarf rises to such a rank. We will need to act quickly. If I have ever managed to succeed in any of my reforms, I have had to push the matter too quickly for anyone to interfere. This is also such a moment.”

“Leliana, what...?”

“It needs to be done today. Will you go down with them? The Empress cannot interfere in Chantry politics, not that that ever has stopped her from trying. I worry that if I am not present, she may be able to intimidate the Elders of the council.”

Cassandra feels blistering flames lick at her back. “You – you want me to impersonate you?” 

“Only to send the Empress away. I trust you can be suitably intimidating to do so. She may hope to catch my council unaware – I would go, Cassandra, but we cannot hope to explain our situation and solve this while there is time.”

Cassandra stares in horror. “Absolutely not! I cannot-”

“If you go, it will give me time to deal with what work I can do here without having to show my face. Then we can begin to seek help to figure out what has happened to us.” Leliana's rough voice softens to a whisper. “Please? Trust me.”

Cassandra knows they cannot announce to all what has happened. Leliana is right. It would likely cause chaos. They must keep level heads. They cannot reveal their vulnerability to all of the Grand Cathedral. She has to trust Leliana's plan. Yet all her senses are in revolt, everything is wrong and the thought of impersonating the Divine! _Maker, forgive me._ She nods her assent before whatever is screaming at her core about this idea can interfere.

Leliana leads her to her wardrobe and Cassandra closes her eyes and tries to focus on anything but what is happening to keep herself from running away. She feels sick to her stomach still. 

Leliana helps her dress with the swiftness of one accustomed to dealing with the difficult fastenings and heaviness of the deceptively simple-looking robes of the Divine. The chest-piece, with its golden ornaments in particular, weighs her down, rests heavy on her heart. _Maker forgive me, Maker forgive me, Maker forgive me._

“I am sure he will, Cassandra.” Had she spoken aloud? Leliana's hand finds hers and clasps it firmly. “This will take but an hour. You can do this. Come back to the apartments when it is done. If I am gone, wait for me here.”

Cassandra nods. 

Leliana indicates for her to incline her head, then carefully helps her put on the Divine's mitre. Cassandra feels surreal – as if in a dream – a nightmare. Leliana's look of reassurance plays strangely over her own face. “Go, my love. The Maker will watch over you.”

Normally this should reassure her. Now Cassandra fears a lightning bolt of divine judgment might strike her down.

She opens the door and is whisked away to the Cathedral proper by a group of four armored guards. 

_Maker help us all._

 

***

Cassandra has gone. Leliana listens to her retreating steps from just where she remained standing after the door shut behind her. _Maker guide you._ She sends a prayer for strength and restoration up to the heavens – for Cassandra as much as for herself. Her lips set in a thin line. This is a test they both will have to suffer. 

Soft persistent tapping reminds her of her ravens. Leliana hurries to the window to collect the messages from her feathered agents there. She is lucky to get them to cooperate after their initial skittishness and one avian assault on her hands. They may be confused by her appearance, but do eventually respond to the familiar lilt of her voice – it must be a question of cadence. 

Again Charter reports of writs that have appeared around Val Royeaux signed by “The Flames of the Maker”, who claim to show to all the world the “falsehood and folly” of “treacherous, debauched rebel” Divine Victoria who has “despoiled the purity of the once-divine Chantry.” Their propaganda is not simply a danger to her, but also to new initiates that have joined the Chantry within the past year. So far her agents have not been able to trace the members of this group, if indeed there are many members and this is not merely the action of one person with an agenda to stir dissent. 

Sticking with familiar routines is grounding. It helps her to accept that she is still herself, even if in a different body. She fixes herself a pot of strong Antivan tea to soothe her mind – and Cassandra's aching body – and marvels at the subtle difference of the tea's taste on Cassandra's tongue. 

Some of the initial rush of fire in her blood that has sustained her actions so far dissipates, and the pain in her head pushes dully to the forefront of her perception. She massages her temples, stretches, reads and replies to messages, even if the use of Cassandra's hands proves slightly unsettling, the writing she produces seems oddly ungainly and she has to concentrate to shape the letters as she is used to. 

She hopes things are going well for Cassandra. Hopes Celene can be dissuaded from interfering with her plans. Even if her imitation proves weak, people will not question the face of the Divine. Maker give her strength! 

Leliana feels she has ended up with the easier side of this accident, even if it means she is to bear out the recuperation of Cassandra's travel-weary and cold-struck body. Cassandra does not have a schedule at the Grand Cathedral. 

Once she has dealt with what of her own duties she can muster in writing, she will allow herself to lie down and rest. Later, she will go seek out Renette d'Arnee, her Right Hand. She will have to be told about what has happened. She will help. Hopefully Cassandra will have returned by then. They will put together a team of agents that can be trusted and set up an investigation, find experts in such magics that can be trusted – reverse what has been done to them. The steps line up in her mind and calm her – it does not do to lose her head over this. 

After a while she cannot stop shivering. She needs to do this work, but she cannot let herself – let this body – wear itself to suffering exhaustion. 

Leliana sends for cold remedies and restoratives and retreats to her bedroom. There, things remain as they have left them. The bed undone as they themselves were the night before. As she approaches the bed she stubs her toe painfully on something hard that is sent rolling under the bed by the force of her kick. _What? The statue!_ Leliana crouches down to retrieve it. 

In daylight it looks a muted black, still and almost unassuming if she did not concentrate on the artfully crafted shapes of the bodies it holds. _The bodies..._ Leliana traces fingers along the shapes of their limbs – a possibility rears its ugly head suddenly within her mind. Could this be – could there have been an enchantment placed on this? Her head smarts as thoughts begin to race. 

It had been a gift, a gift she received weeks ago. The woman had been with a delegation from - she cannot remember. There will be records, she can find out where they came from. Leliana remembers the woman's smile – charming, conspiratorial – when she had opened the small chest for Leliana and shown her the precious statuette within. She had been elegant, well-spoken, Leliana had let herself be charmed, had let her guard down. _I should always be wary of gifts._

But maybe it was not the obsidian statue? She should not let herself rush to conclusions – not when her head, Cassandra's head, is threatening to split open if she does not rest. She curls up on the bed, draws blankets and sheets around herself. Soon, soon the healer will send her remedies that will make this bearable, will allow her to think clearly and go on.


	3. 3

Cassandra is burning up under her vestments. Not _her_ vestments, her brain instantly corrects her. Sweat trickles down her back in a thin line as she exchanges greetings with the delegations of Clerics, Chantry Mothers and Chancellors that have come to meet with the Divine and the Empress. 

This, at least, is easy to do. It involves merely the regurgitation of pleasantries and blessings – and she has experienced it many times at the side of Beatrix and Justinia. This politic dance of Chantry dignitaries is not what makes her throat constrict – or rather, it is the ease with which she has been included in it - that it is accepted that she is Divine Victoria. It is not right. It should not be this easy. _Maker forgive me._

Cassandra feigns interest in the discussion about the proper placement of relics in a Ferelden chantry, tries to replicate sounds of agreement she has heard Leliana make. She notices herself standing rather stiffly and amends her stance to copy that of Leliana letting her folded arms drop into what she hopes is a more relaxed gesture. The effort of the deception sends another scalding blush down her arms. _Is this a taste of the Maker's holy fire?_

“... do you not agree, Most Holy?” a rather rotund brother with a ruddy, pleasant face turns to her now, seeking her approval. 

She should have been paying attention to the conversation instead of worrying about her own anxieties. She cannot give herself away. For Leliana's sake – for the Divine. 

Cassandra takes a deep breath and clasps her hands, trying to channel what understanding she has of the person that is Divine Victoria into her words. “The Maker bless your efforts.” She offers, somewhat hesitantly. 

There are no shouts of “Impostor!” The eyes on her still communicate attention and admiration. Yes, this is believable - a blessing likely earned. The Maker will not disapprove of chantry renovations. He may indeed bless this Brother - if he does not first strike her down for her continued blasphemous indiscretions. Why must she be tested thus?

“Please excuse me.” Cassandra escapes, neck burning. She cannot risk any lengthy engagements. If she keeps her interactions short she may yet manage to survive this morning. 

Of course, there is one talk that will require her to offer more than blessings and excuses. 

Soon after there is a commotion at the door and Empress Celene is announced. The High Chancellor immediately makes a bee-line to greet her. Cassandra stifles a bitter smirk of amusement. Somehow the position has always attracted the players of the Game among the Brothers. 

Cassandra takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and allows herself to be escorted to the head of the table by her guard. At least here there is no throne of the Divine. Thank the Maker for small mercies – and the meeting not to be considered public enough to be conducted in the throne room. 

After everyone has been led to their proper seats, Cassandra faces Celene at the opposite end of the long table. At the sides sit the Grand Clerics, Chantry Mothers, Brothers and Sisters of note – and two representatives of the Knights Divine. One is a tall, sharp-featured, ascetic-looking woman whose general demeanor and finally her accent reveal her as a fellow country-woman to Cassandra. She tries to recall whether they have spoken before. Generally, she tends to avoid the company of other Nevarrans. It is not a conscious choice – but one developed rather instinctively after her early years in Orlais when such meetings inevitably ended in lengthy discussions of _Pentaghasts_. 

Cassandra clears her throat and closes her eyes - and waits for the silence that tells her that all the delegates have settled into their seats. She can feel their eyes on her as they wait for her to speak. 

“This meeting is a courtesy to our Empress of Orlais.” Cassandra begins, measuring her tone and breathing, willing it to be slow and precise – her voice steady and the best imitation of Leliana she can muster. She prays again that it _will_ pass muster. “We will hear what she has to say, and I ask you to consider her words, as you must, in your own hearts.”

“However,” Cassandra now makes eye contact with the Empress who watches her across the distance of the table with an equally measured expression, “we have had our vote on the matter, and the initiation of Sister Zerlinda into the ranks of the Mothers is planned for this evening. To postpone it – to reconsider – would send its own message. Consider this as well.” 

Cassandra takes another deep breath and gives a nod to the Empress, whose facade she is certain now bears tiny cracks of anger. She hopes she has not gone too far, has correctly judged what Leliana might say. 

But the Empress is a skilled player of the Game, the minuscule signs of irritation vanish, as she commences her address of the Revered Mothers and Brothers. Cassandra watches their expressions, trying to glean reactions, but they, overall, are also practiced in not showing their opinions too soon. 

Cassandra should be listening, too, but she finds she cannot concentrate. She notices a slight tremor in her hands and lets them rest on the table, trying to conceal her nerves. If she were in her own body, she feels she would have given herself away by now, but Leliana's body, though fairer-skinned, seems less prone to nervous blushes and sweats than her own. Only the trickle down her back persists, but that is as likely to have been caused by the heavy ceremonial robes. 

Suddenly all eyes turn on her and Cassandra curses her distracted mind. She cannot afford to do the Divine such a disservice. 

“We thank our secular sister for her message.” _Send her away, send her away_ , Leliana's words replay in her mind – offering an escape. “We will have to deliberate among ourselves, however, and pray for the Maker's guidance.” Cassandra gets up, as do the throngs of Chantry dignitaries, some scrambling in visible confusion.

Celene rises, slowly, methodically, dignified – her face unreadable as ever as she leaves the table. “Your Perfection,” she casts Cassandra a cursory glance before turning and departing with her advisors and guards. 

Cassandra feels suddenly feather-light with relief as their echoing steps grow ever quieter outside the room. Something like triumph rears its sacrilegious head within her heart. She has done it!

To her left the Revered Mother Edith clears her throat. “Your suggestion of further deliberation is quite welcome, Your Perfection. I do not intend to go back on my vote – no suggestion of that – I am sure we all agree. I am glad, however, of the chance of further discussing the ceremony tonight, as I am sure are many of my fellow clerics.” 

There are assenting murmurs around the table. Cassandra curses her choice of words, receding into her chair with a sinking feeling, and resigns herself to at least an hour more of listening to the Revered Mothers and Brothers. 

***

When Leliana wakes first, she is shaken carefully by Mila, who has reappeared, healer in tow. He examines her, feeds her a potion, leaves more bottles behind and leaves, ordering her to sleep it off. She cannot help but comply with his order. Maker, she does feel awful. 

Later, harmonizing voices reach her consciousness, pulling her back to herself. Her window is open and the wind carries the sounds of singers practicing somewhere below. 

Leliana takes stock of the body she is housed in and finds it much restored. Some aches persist, but it would be folly to not make use of the time she has, so she rises and eats, hoping to fuel the strength of Cassandra's body. 

Cassandra has not returned, even though the sun tells her it must be noon already. She hopes Cassandra has had luck with the assembly. She is not afraid for her – if something had happened or if she had been discovered there would have been a message. No, it is only likely that Cassandra finds it as impossible to extract herself from the blessedly faithful Mothers as she herself often does. Leliana smirks at the thought of poor Cassandra likely still surrounded by a gaggle of aging clerics, wanting to bend her ear to their gossip and selfish concerns. They might keep her a while longer.

She cannot be idle. She writes a note to Cassandra and decides on a plan of action.

Leliana dresses in Cassandra's leathers and cuirass and heads down to the Chantry's training grounds where she hopes to find her Right Hand. It will not be out of character for Cassandra to spend time with Renette d'Arnee, the fierce former Knight Divine she instated before Cassandra left on her search for more Seekers. And nobody will be surprised to see her - Cassandra - there. The former Right Hand, after all, had vetted and trained the current one.

She remembers Cassandra's preferred route through the less-traveled paths of the Cathedral complex and takes the time to work on her gait. Soon, Cassandra's steps fall in a familiar staccato. Leliana hopes that she will not be whisked into well-meant training challenges at her destination. Well, she does have Cassandra's illness as an excuse to beg off – and the Seeker's impressive scowl.

Having finally reached the ground level, Leliana rounds another corner into a deserted hallway when she hears softer steps approaching from behind. 

“Seeker Pentaghast!” 

Leliana stops and turns. Rushing towards her now is a lithe, elegant woman in a heavy cape, its burgundy so dark it almost appears black. When the woman reaches her and casts off her hood Leliana immediately recognizes the face, the emerald eyes now wide expressing urgency. It is the very woman who had gifted her the obsidian statuette! This meeting cannot be a coincidence! 

Cassandra would not know this, however. Leliana tenses but tries to stifle shock and fury and project outward calm, not to grab the woman and shake her, scream – demand answers! 

“Yes,” she says, keeping her tone flat. Adopting Cassandra's look of concern she adds slowly, “Can I help you?”

The worry on the woman's face melts away, instead she steps closer with a conspiratorial smile Leliana remembers well. “Oh, I am certain you can.” With that, her eyes dart behind Leliana where suddenly two figures move from the shadows quick as lighting, grabbing her and pulling a hood over her head.

Leliana briefly is too shocked to resist. What are they doing? They must be suicidal, attempting to what – kidnap Cassandra? Then adrenaline courses through her as she punches blindly, finally connecting with a satisfying crunch. Another hit and she hears a gagging sound. She tears blindly at the hood on her head, trying in vain to get it off before someone tackles her, throwing her against a wall. There is an outraged scream before something wet and sharp-smelling is flung into her face, saturating the cloth and stinging her nostrils. 

Leliana curses as she recognizes the smell. She holds her breath, tries to break free, but her strength and senses are already leaving her. 

“Quickly! The cart!” 

Leliana is borne up by more hands than she can remember accounting for – maybe there were more than the two figures she saw? She has a brief fear of suffocation, feeling something like heavy blankets piled on top of her. She tries to scream, but no sound escapes her. Finally she knows no more. 

***

Leliana is not in her quarters. It is mid-afternoon when Cassandra finally returns to the Divine's apartments. There is a message for her, instructing her to wait, saying she has “gone to get some exercise.” _Some exercise_. Cassandra longs for the relief of it. She wonders if the Knights Divine would accept Divine Victoria's sudden need to hit something extremely hard with hefty sword and grunts with exasperation. No, she will have to wait. 

Cassandra takes off the mitre and heavy robes carefully and instead attempts to still her raging thoughts with meditation. 

***

“... blackmail?”

“... not any larger a risk than...” 

“You should not have gone ahead with your foolish plan...”

“It would have been far more beneficial to have one of ours in the Divine's seat than to destroy it.”

Laughter. “You mean yourself? Conceited witch! Your plan has failed. Accept it.”

Someone is carrying out an argument outside her door and Leliana wishes they could keep their voices down. Everything hurts. She winces. Musty and acrid smells linger around her. Her head is close to splitting. Suddenly she remembers. Cassandra, the hallway... _merde_.

She feigns unconsciousness longer, trying to ascertain where she might be, tries hard to make her hearing pick up what the voices outside are arguing over. 

The ground underneath her is hard – its cold mitigated only slightly by what could be straw and rags. Leliana allows her eyelids to flutter slightly, enough to confirm she must be in a cellar somewhere. The stones are old and cracked and she is alone in the room... cell? She cannot be sure yet. There is light coming from a crack underneath the door and shadows moving outside it.

“Do what you will with the Seeker. You caught her. We do not have any need of her. My men are moving on the Grand Cathedral as we speak.”

A man. A familiar voice. Leliana tries to concentrate, wills her mind to work better. _Who?_

“You should not have forced my hand before I was ready. At every turn you have undermined me!” This is the elegant woman. Leliana inches closer to the door. Her hands, she notices, are tied – but not her legs. They must have been in a hurry to allow such an oversight. 

A mirthless laugh. “Did you think I would waste any more time allowing you to worm your way into power? It was folly, desperation on my part to even trust you to begin with. No more!”

“What will you do then? You are a madman if you believe the people will give you and your kind any power. So you destroy the Divine – then what?” 

Leliana's heart is racing. Are they planning an attempt on her life? _Maker!_ And what of Cassandra?

“Our new friends have power you cannot even dream of. And do not underestimate the gratitude of people in shock to a force that promises order after chaos. And, oh, there will be chaos. We will put the fear of the Maker into these babbling fools!” 

Berne! The realization hits Leliana with absolute certainty. He does love to hear himself talk. _Yes, talk! Talk now!_ She wills him to go on.

“We will show them that they blasphemed, listening for so long to this sacrilegious rebel Divine! That they are nothing when faced with the true forces of this world! We will show them that they need the Order!” He is almost roaring now, then laughs again. “This ceremony tonight is a poor stage for our glorious new beginning – the initiation of the first dwarf into the ranks of the Revered Mothers – but it will have to do. It sends a message after all.” 

“You fool-” the woman retorts, but her reply is cut short by the sound of impact, of cloth and flesh ripping. 

There are more yells and shouts, but the commotion outside is short and when it has ended, Leliana hears footsteps approaching her cell. 

“Leave her,” Berne calls. “Nobody will find her.” 

The footsteps retreat. 

“We are done here.”

Leliana's heart is close to bursting with speed and fear. She waits until she feels certain they truly have left and then gets up, fighting nausea and dizziness. 

There is a small window in the cell door and she strains to see what she can outside. The corridor is empty, bar the torches she sees burning on the walls and what must be crumpled bodies on the floor.

She turns and drops to her knees again – frantically searching the floor of her cell for something – some tool that might aid her escape. Failing there being anything she will have to hope Cassandra's strength will be powerful enough best the heavy wooden door. It may.

Her mind races. There are several possibilities for where she might be. She knows the Chantry complex has an abundance of disused cellars and jails – memories of the organization's dark past. If only she could get out of this cell, she might...

There is a noise. Leliana freezes. Outside her door she hears scraping, movement. She fights the impulse to call for help. _Maker aid me!_

A key in the lock. Turning. A bolt moving. Then the door to her cell swings open mere inches. 

Leliana blinks into the light. 

A bloodied hand grabs onto the side of the door, pushing it open. Dark burgundy cloth now drenched in black blood. 

Leliana extends her bound hands. 

The green-eyed woman shakes her head. “Find a sword.” She breathes, turning her head sideways indicating the fallen bodies. 

“Why are you helping me?” Leliana asks.

A smile bitter, no longer enigmatic, conspiratorial. “Spite.” The woman says, blood at her mouth. There is a deep wound in her lower abdomen. 

Leliana leaves the cell, carefully surveying the fallen bodies – there are seven here, likely the woman's followers. She finds a sword and carefully maneuvers the blade to cut her ties, then picks it up, turning back to the woman.

“Your name?” she asks. 

The woman shakes her head. “Call me Luciole.” 

“Where are they going, Luciole? What do you know?” Leliana levels the sword at the woman's throat. 

“No details. Go to the Divine. Hurry, if you love her. Her life is as good as forfeit.”

“As is yours.” 

The woman grimaces. “Alert what forces you can. It may help you after. That is all I can say. Now, make an end.” 

“Not yet.” Leliana kneels. “What is the statuette you gave me. Tell me!”

“Gave you?” The woman blinks in confusion. 

“Don't play coy! The obsidian-”

The woman's gurgled laugh reminds Leliana that she has slipped up.

“Then it worked after all? Tell me, how did you activate it? It would not work for me.” 

Leliana curses her carelessness. “How do I-?” 

The woman keels forward, trembling, a smile on her lips. Leliana catches her, but when she rolls her to the side the green eyes are unseeing – dead. 

Leliana picks up the sword and begins to run. 

***

Cassandra waits in the sacristy, eyes closed and praying. Praying for the relief of the Maker turning her into a pillar of stone _now_ , for him to strike her down before she must face the masses of worshipers attending tonight's festive inauguration of Mother Zerlinda. 

Where is Leliana? Why has she not come back? Who did she go see? It was not Renette. Renette is currently guarding the door to the sacristy with her brothers and sisters of the Knights Divine. It might have been her agents, it might take longer to solve a puzzle such as theirs. She has to trust in Leliana's network of spies, intelligence gathered over miles and miles all over Thedas. They will find help. 

_Oh, Maker! Andraste!_ Can she do this? It is uncommon for Divine Victoria to not speak freely to the congregation – but she, Cassandra, cannot. Thankfully there are Leliana's notes and her speech penned for the occasion. She will read them. She must make do. She must do all she can to do the event justice. To not ruin the Divine's name. To keep Leliana safe. 

The door opens and she walks up to the altar. Tries to soak up what strength she can from the familiar surroundings of the Cathedral. _Forgive me, Maker. I seek only to see things right._

As the congregation rises and a choir of sisters begins to sing Cassandra tries her best to join in – hoping Leliana's voice will mask the work of an unpracticed singer. The Chant, at least, is familiar.

Cassandra begins to speak, but slowly she feels herself separate from her body. Feels as if this is someone else speaking, reading Leliana's words to the crowd. 

She is uncertain how much time has passed when there are screams from the Northern aisle. Cassandra looks over to see herself, bloodied and frantic, sword in hand, pushing through the crowd, approaching the ranks of the Knights Divine, who form a protective line between the crowd and herself. 

“Protect the Divine!” The Seeker – Leliana – shouts and gesticulates to the Knights. 

There are shouts and screams from the congregation as Cassandra feels a sharp pain in her shoulder. She looks down to see the hilt of a dagger there. She drops to the ground, more out of instinct than hurt as she watches both Leliana and Renette rushing towards her – as does another from in green, a fresh-faced young man that uses the momentary breach in the ranks of the Knights Divine to break through their defenses. 

All three reach her in almost the same instant, throwing themselves onto her.

“Kaffas! Trust me!” a voice yells as everything around her disappears into a flash of smoke and green light.


	4. 4

Leliana's head is throbbing. As she swims back to consciousness she is acutely aware of the pulse beating at her temples and – yes – knocking, knocking, adding an outside stimulus to the rhythm of her headache. _The ravens._

Leliana still fights waking up fully, knowing it will make going back to sleep and escaping this void-forsaken ache for a few blessed minutes more impossible. 

There is movement beside her. Someone... Cassandra? She feels faint and confused as the fog of the familiar cold impedes her thinking. “I think you gave me-” She stops herself. This is not right – not right but familiar. Memories come flooding back and she sits up with a start just as she hears footfalls approaching and heavy things being set down outside her room. _What – a dream..?_

Her eyes are still small with sleep, but the woman beside her is not Cassandra – it is herself. She stifles a curse sent to the Maker. 

Her mirror image sits up and extends a hand, eyes widening. “Leliana? What is happening?”

She clings to the proffered hand with both of hers. She has been here before. Was it her imagination or... “The Cathedral – the assassination... Do you remember? 

“I do. What-”

There is a knock on the door. They both flinch at the sound. 

“Most Holy, there are urgent messages that require your attention!” The voice on the other side of the door is all muffled urgency. 

“I -” Leliana begins but then gesticulates to Cassandra. 

“I am not feeling well! Come back later!” Cassandra shouts, voice still rough with sleep and rather overdoing the Orlesian accent, Leliana thinks. She could have done this better, even with Cassandra's voice. 

“Most Holy! The Empress-” 

They share a look in silence. _How can this be?_ The ravens continue their insistent staccato. 

“What does the Empress want?” Leliana cannot help but ask. 

“She has sent a runner from the Imperial palace. He says the message is really quite urgent!” 

This cannot be. Leliana reaches out to take Cassandra's hand. 

“Most Holy?” Mila follows up her question with continued knocking at the door.

Leliana sees Cassandra's irritation flash across her own features, a rather unsettling display. Cassandra covers herself with a blanket, vaults to the door and opens it rather forcefully for someone who has just professed to be so unwell. Apparently Cassandra realizes this herself, because her posture changes and she continues rather meekly. “I fear I must see a healer first, Mila. Please send one presently. The Empress must wait until I am well enough to welcome an honored guest such as herself.”

Leliana cannot see Mila, but hears her steps retreat and the door shut behind her. 

Dire and confusing as their situation is, Leliana cannot help her amusement at Cassandra's attempt at dissembling. “You were convincing enough, my love. Though you might have coughed or held your head for dramatic effect,” she offers as Cassandra turns back towards her, scroll in hand. 

Cassandra frowns and marches back towards the bed. “Ugh! I had the vain hope upon waking that all this had merely been a bad dream. What is going on, Leliana?”

Leliana reaches for the scroll, breaks the Imperial seal and scans its contents. “Same as before. She intends to arrive momentarily to speak to the assembly.” 

“But how? How has this happened?” Cassandra paces, brows knitting in either concentration or confusion. It is more difficult to read her in this body, Leliana finds. 

Leliana discards the scroll on her bed. “I am not sure, though I think I now know who we owe part of our current predicament to.” She briefly dives under the bed to retrieve the obsidian statuette and sits back on the floor with it when she has found it. 

“The statue?” Cassandra gasps. “This is what changed us?” She kneels down in front of Leliana, regarding the statuette as if it were a poisonous snake. 

“It is likely. I ran into the person yester-” Leliana falters. _Today? Maker!_ “The woman who gave this to me. Her men tried to kidnap me – kidnap you, I suppose. She-”

Cassandra's eyes grow large. “You were kidnapped? That is where you went? That is why you were... When I saw you at the Grand Cathedral you looked-” she flinches, “How badly were you hurt?” 

Leliana shakes her head. “Not much. The blood was mostly theirs. She was killed before I could find out what she knew about this item – or what she intended to do with you.”

Cassandra is trembling now with emotion and suppressed anger. “I assumed you had gone off to investigate with your agents. I did not think to- I only thought about my own plight. I should have questioned where you went, I should have-”

Leliana lunges forward to stop Cassandra's tirade and takes her in her arms. “Stop. Nothing that happened was your fault.” Cassandra's body is tense and Leliana fears she might tear herself away – but after a moment she feels that the embrace is returned. “My love,” she whispers, “I was so afraid for you. I could not have-” her voice breaks. “When I was captured, I learned that there was going to be an attempt on the Divine's life. If you had died in my place I-”

Now Cassandra shushes her. “I did not die.”

She thought to be the strong one. How wrong she has been. “When I saw the dagger in your breast I-” _Tabris in her arms again, so many wounds, so many. The Archdemon is dead, but so is the woman she loved. Do not take Cassandra from me, Maker! I have given you my life! Don't you dare take her, too!_

Leliana curls into Cassandra's body, which is also hers – it feels so strange that she is not met with the reassuring bulk of Cassandra's own muscular form – but it is Cassandra's endearments, Cassandra's caresses she hears and feels. Her head pounds with the cold and resurgent grief. They cannot stay like this forever, but she will allow herself this indulgence until the healer arrives. They are still alive, they are still together – even after all that has happened. 

***

Cassandra paces outside Leliana's bedroom. The healer has been there and Leliana is currently asleep, but will hopefully soon wake again and be much restored. 

She ought to do something! Something beside pray for divine intervention. Beside playing guard for Leliana. But without all of the information – and without Leliana's keen mind - she fears it might be the wrong thing. 

She has let in Leliana's birds, collected their missives and left them beside Leliana's sleeping form. She has also written a summary of her day – the previous day – and left it with the messages. There is likely little enough to be learned from it, but if there is anything than might help Leliana put puzzle pieces together – help them...

A knock. “Yes, what is it?” 

Mila enters. Her face lights up when she sees Cassandra. 

“Ah, you are up! It is good to see you are feeling better, Most Holy!” She bows. “The Empress has arrived and the Grand Clerics sent me to see if you are ready to attend the assembly. Will you need help with your vestments?”

 _Maker take her!_ Cassandra is cornered and too dumbstruck to think of a plan of escape. “Yes,” she finally allows. Best to get this over with and then attempt to refuse the further engagement with the assembly and return to Leliana, who likely will remain asleep for an hour or so longer.

As Mila is busy fussing with her garments a flash of inspiration hits Cassandra. “Mila? Please send the Right Hand to my quarters after I have gone. Seeker Pentaghast wishes to speak to her.”

“I will, Most Holy.” Mila nods.

Cassandra exhales slightly. With Renette there, Leliana might have an easier time investigating – and she should be better protected. 

“Good.” Cassandra bows as she is helped into the heavy headdress. “Make sure she stays, even if the Seeker is still asleep.” 

She is ready now. There is no way to stall. Cassandra allows herself to be escorted to the assembly once more. 

***

Singing voices somewhere below, a fresh breeze from the window, its cold mellowed somewhat by the heat of the late morning sun. Leliana drinks deeply of her strong Antivan tea while she sorts through the messages she woke up next to. Most of these she has already read yesterday, but she reads them again, scanning for any little detail discounted as insignificant that might prove otherwise. 

The “Flames of the Maker” - might they be connected to Berne somehow? She must put her agents on his trail. Ravens are quickly dispatched to Charter, Ritts and Sparrow. 

She might go to Sparrow herself in a moment to discuss their actions further. It is good to have some agents at the Grand Cathedral. This would also allow her to look in briefly on her darling nugs. She smiles at the thought of indulgence, and the memory of Boulette nearly chewing through the Divine's embroidered shoes. They were simply too unhappy cooped up in her quarters. Sparrow's quarters and the nugs' enclosure are now in the vast gardens and stables adjacent to the Cathedral – much more suitable. 

Leliana lingers over Cassandra's account of her day, the familiar, confident penmanship marred by the struggle of writing with another's hand. There is nothing here that stands out as unusual. The figures in Cassandra's report are familiar and none of their behaviors seem suspicious. Leliana tries to commit each detail to memory all the same. These might be puzzle pieces needed later. 

She focuses on Cassandra's account of her last memories of the day: the masses at the Grand Cathedral, Leliana's return – the green-clothed young man, the Tevene curse, the cloud of green smoke. 

A memory stirs deep in her mind. Thank the Maker the Inquisitor has only recently arrived in Val Royeaux. She grabs her quill and a small piece of parchment and writes:

> _Inquisitor,_
> 
> _The years have diluted my memories, yet I believe I remember your account of your displacement in time by Alexius' magic well. Recently there has been an event at the Grand Cathedral, which I suspect to be the direct result of Tevinter magic of a similar kind. I know you are able to communicate with Dorian through the sending crystal he gave you. Please inform him of my suspicion and come to the Grand Cathedral as quickly as you can. I may have great need of both of your help._
> 
> _\- L_

There. _Now, Maker, let time be on our side._

***

Cassandra does not allow the greetings and small talk to go on for too long when she arrives. Instead she asks to be left to commune with the Maker and makes a show of rubbing her forehead and temples occasionally. Leliana had suggested this, hopefully it will make her planned escape more plausible later. 

There is a commotion at the door, and Empress Celene is announced. The High Chancellor again makes a bee-line to greet her. As he does so, rather effusively, and bends to kiss the Empress' hand, Cassandra notices the Empress' mouth almost imperceptibly twitch with disgust. 

Cassandra is escorted to her seat and feels determination override her trepidation, even as Celene takes her place across from her. She has done this before. She concentrates on the points she wants to get across and recalls near perfectly what she said the day before. Her accent, she feels, is also improving – its idiosyncrasies apparently excused as a sign of her ill health. When she ends her speech, she has to force herself to not show the signs of the relief she feels. 

“Tradition,” the Empress begins, “is a jewel too precious to cast aside so soon. Most Holy, I value your great insight into the matters that move the heart in our dear Orlais, but in this I must ask you to show more restraint. The Revered Mothers and Brothers will agree with me that-”

Though Cassandra manages to concentrate and take in more of the Empress' words, there is nothing unexpected – nothing that gives her pause. 

She begins to scan the faces of the assembly once more. Some are long familiar, and she would say beyond reproach. The newer faces she lingers on. Where did they come from? Can they be trusted? Should she speak to the Knights Divine after this? 

“- therefore we must implore the assembly to reconsider their decision,” the Empress concludes. 

Cassandra's heart is pounding with the adrenaline of an expected performance. “We thank our Empress for her message, but we will have to deliberate among ourselves, and ask for the Maker's guidance.” 

Cassandra gets up, the throngs of Chantry dignitaries scramble in sudden confusion. She sees frowns on a few faces. 

After Celene and her followers have departed, Cassandra is quick to leave her position at the head of the table. Behind her, Mother Edith clears her throat. _Maker take her!_ “Your suggestion of further deliberation is quite welcome, Your Perfection. I do not intend to go back on my vote – no suggestion of that –“ 

“I am very glad of that.” Cassandra cuts her off. “Your support means a lot to me.” 

Edith is suddenly startled. “Oh, I – thank you, Your Perfection. But as I meant to say - the ceremony tonight-”

“To know it in such capable hands truly is a blessing. If you will excuse me, Mother Edith, I am still recovering and will have to rest before the event.”

Cassandra turns and makes her excuses to the assembly, then lets herself be escorted back to the Divine's quarters, face burning with the effort of deceit. 

***

Feeling better again, Leliana has moved to her little office – her official one is much grander, but it is convenient to have a private space to work in her quarters.

Renette d'Arnee, her Right Hand, arrives only a few minutes after Leliana has sent off her last raven. 

“You sent for me?” She stands imposingly tall in the doorframe, her broad, armored body filling almost its entirety, hand resting easily on the hilt of her sword in a gesture of fealty and readiness.

Leliana is startled by her arrival, but sends silent thanks to Cassandra for having the presence of mind to send the Right Hand her way. Renette's demeanor is always refreshingly direct and, though her service has lasted only a few months, they are familiar enough that Leliana has asked her to disperse with the honeying honorifics most people apply to the Divine. 

Though of course, now that she is in Cassandra's body, this is hardly something to remark upon. Her lip twitches at her own folly. 

“Yes,” Leliana begins, slipping into her Nevarran accent. “A matter of the utmost urgency – I fear there may be enemy agents at the Grand Cathedral planning an attempt on the Divine's life.”

She has not expected Renette to flinch at that – there is an odd, almost haunted expression on her Right Hand's face now. 

“Does the prospect disturb you so?” Leliana demands carefully. 

“Forgive me, but it is very strange you should mention an assassination. I – I dreamt I saw the Divine assassinated last night.” Renette shakes her head, as if to shake the image. 

This seems too odd to be a coincidence. “Tell me, in your dream, how did it happen?” Leliana asks carefully.

“I was with the other Knights Divine. There was a service – the Divine was speaking. Then you appeared, bloodied and shouting – I do not remember. We ran to you. There were screams. Then – I turned and the Divine – it was too late. I saw the dagger in her chest. I remember running towards her – then... I … the next thing I remember is waking up.”

It is true, Renette had been with them when the explosion of green energy had enveloped them. If that was what had caused the time to reverse, as she had indeed suspected, it is a logical step that Renette was also affected – as was the young man in green, her mind reminds her. How could she find him? 

But first things first. “Is that all? Has anything else struck you as strange today?”

Renette swallows hard, her deep voice lowers to almost a whisper. “Now that you ask. I – it seems foolish – but I have felt all morning as if – no,” she ends, looking away. 

“As if you have experienced this day before?” Leliana supplies, certain of her theory.

Renette's responding look proves her right. “How did you know?”

“Because that is how _I_ know.” Leliana indicates for Renette to sit down with her. “I believe that young man did something to us – caused us to relive the day.”

Renette's expression is still one of shock, but she shakes her head in agreement. “I would come to the same conclusion.”

“That is not all,” Leliana continues. “I know a little more of what transpired, but not enough to prevent it from happening again.” She pauses. “I need your help – and your trust.”

“You have it.” Renette replies instantly. 

Leliana nods her thanks. “I cannot be certain whether I know all involved in this conspiracy, but I know that former Knight Captain Berne and a woman – likely an Enchantress calling herself Luciole - are involved.” She sums up her experiences while Renette's frown deepens. 

“I always did think the Divine's decision to agree to Berne's request to serve at the Cathedral foolish.” Renette growls. “He is not a man to forgive a perceived slight.”

Leliana is momentarily taken aback at Renette's tone. “Well, you did advise the Divine against it.” She surmises with a rebellious smirk. 

Renette shakes her head. “Sometimes the old adage of keeping your enemies closer just accomplishes just that. Your enemies are closer.”

Leliana laughs and laughs more as Renette looks as if she has grown another head. 

This might be amusing, but she should not let this deception go on any longer. “I should also tell you that, thanks to this Luciole, I find myself in quite another predicament.” Leliana reaches for the small chest of dark wood holding the enchanted statuette. 

As she opens it Renette's brows furrow, trying to make out what exactly she is seeing. “What is it?” 

“A gift I received. A statuette once said to belong to Divine Rosamund – or depicting her, I am not quite sure.” Leliana replies, once again mesmerized by the statuette's mysterious form herself. “Do not touch it,” she adds as she sees Renette's hand move towards it. 

“How is it connected to this plot?” Renette demands. 

“Luciole, though working with Berne to some degree, apparently had her own ideas on how to get to the Divine.” Leliana explains with a bitter smile. “This statuette, from what I have gathered, was supposed to possibly switch her body with that of the Divine.”

“Switch their bodies!” Renette exclaims. “How? What might that accomplish?”

“Oh, I suppose it would have effectively put her in power. And who would assume the raving woman in her body, claiming she was the true Divine, might have a leg to stand on? Anyway, I think they would quickly have done away with her somehow, before she could have effectively proven her identity. Easy to cut down a strange enchantress, who suddenly throws herself on the Divine with a cry of fury, and claim it was to protect the Most Holy. Easier still to carry off an unconscious body never for it to be found again.”

Renette still stares at her, dark eyes narrowed now in suspicion. “How can you know all this?”

“As I said, some of it I learned when I lived through this day before – the rest I can easily enough imagine.” Leliana purses her lips. “Lastly, I know the device works because it has done what it was intended to do – switch bodies – just not as Luciole intended.”

“Then who?” Renette asks, growing impatient. 

“The Seeker and myself.” Leliana says, no longer attempting to copy Cassandra's accent. “I am Leliana, Divine Victoria.”


	5. 5

Renette's dark eyes linger on her as if studying each little expression and gesture to glean whether what she revealed is really true. That she is indeed Leliana, her Divine Victoria, in the body of Renette's predecessor as Right Hand. Leliana is prepared for this suspicion. She does not feel the need to fill the silence as she is being watched, but instead returns her Right Hand's gaze for as long as she is being studied.

Eventually Renette's posture changes and she nods, accepting what she has been told, and looks at the statuette again. “And this is what did it? How can we undo this magic?” 

Leliana almost laughs. She has chosen her Right Hand well. Her capable pragmatism and eagerness to act are welcome and familiar traits. “That is what we must figure out. I have several ideas of how to go about doing so. If I have your trust and support?” 

“You have my sworn duty, Most Holy,” Renette replies, inclining her head, everything about her communicating her fealty. 

“You do not question whether what I said is really true?” Leliana cannot help but push. This level of devotion from her Right Hand is welcome, but if it were her she would question such an outrageous statement more closely. “I could be one of our enemies, hiding in the body of Seeker Pentaghast.”

Renette looks up at her again, her eyes narrowing briefly before she shakes her head. “I believe you. Strange things are happening here. I see that we must be vigilant and protect all those at risk from the schemes of these conspirators.” After a pause she adds, “Besides, if you were an impostor, you would hardly insist I question what you say.” 

This time Leliana does laugh. A strange sound, unfamiliar in Cassandra's voice. She cannot dwell on the intrusive thought of them being stuck like this forever. No despair – taking action is the only way. 

She gestures for Renette to come closer and tells her all about being taken by Luciole and her agents, of Berne's meddling and betrayal of his co-conspirators, of the plots they need to unfurl – and those she fears they might know too little of. 

“... then I made my way into the Grand Cathedral as quickly as I could using some of the old hidden corridors – and you know the rest,” she ends. 

Renette's face has slowly set into an impressive frown of what Leliana assumes is both worry and concentration. 

“Have you considered calling off the initiation ceremony?” Renette asks. 

Leliana shakes her head. “I am reluctant to do so – for one, I still fear the message that might send. Secondly, if we do get the possibility to live this day again and prevent the events we witnessed before, we can only act if we keep the benefit of knowing what our enemies will do and when.

“I agree,” Renette's face remains stone-still, “but what if one or more of your enemies also are experiencing what we are – if they also remember these events?”

That is a new worry that Leliana curses herself for not considering before. “I did not think they could,” she explains to Renette as much as to herself, when she hears the door to her apartments being opened and shut forcefully, followed by a muffled curse. 

Both her and Renette freeze instinctively and listen to heavy footfalls making their way to what she assumes must be the bedroom. “Leliana?” a high voice with a Nevarran lilt asks in a poor imitation of a stage whisper. 

“In my study, Cassandra,” Leliana shouts, momentarily both amused and impressed by Cassandra's apparent ability to shake off the throngs of talkative and concerned denizens of the Chantry so quickly as to allow for a pre-noon return to her quarters. 

The only slightly more disheveled than usual picture of Divine Victoria appears at her study door only a short moment later. Cassandra greets Renette d'Arnee with a curt nod and then looks imploringly at Leliana. “Help me get out of this,” a grimace, replacing no-doubt a colorful curse, “mitre, please?” 

Leliana does so quickly and expertly and releases from the trappings of the headdress of the Divine a scowling and wild-haired image of herself. “Well done, my love,” she says as she carefully sets down the mitre, “you have returned just in time for us to go over my plan of action. Renette knows all. In fact, it seems whatever caused us to start this day over again also caught her in its spell.” 

Cassandra sits down, wide-legged in her Divine's garments in a posture so unmistakably Cassandra, Leliana smiles and then blushes, feeling her gaze and knowing all of Cassandra's attention is focused on her. She sums up again what she has told Renette so far, for Cassandra's benefit, and then resumes where she has left off. 

“I believe what we are experiencing must be due to the spell the young man cast. I have heard of such magic before. The Inquisitor and Dorian Pavus, our Tevinter ally, experienced it first hand, in fact – it fits with this agent's Tevene curse, too. I have reached out to my agents – and to the Inquisitor for help.” 

Cassandra shifts restlessly shifts in her seat. “They would be useful in this situation, but how can you reach them in time for them to help before tonight?”

Leliana smiles. “I have only heard from Trevelyan recently. He was on his way to Val Royeaux on Inquisition business – trade deals, as far as I know. Useful to us now.”

Cassandra's posture changes again. Leliana reads her well, even in this body. This is welcome news.

“He and Dorian communicate regularly through a rare magical item – a sending crystal. The exchange can be instantaneous. I hope that my message will reach the Inquisitor in time to allow us to draw on his experience – his memories – of the magic Alexius used. Ideally Dorian will know enough about this magic – as he was involved in Alexius's study of the type – to help us.”

“I had not considered they might be able to help.” Cassandra looks visibly relieved. 

“It is a question of time – of timing,” Leliana reminds her. “A lot rests on our being able to reach them today.”

“In the meantime,” Renette interjects, “what are your plans for dealing with the conspirators?”

“I believe our focus should lie both on finding out what Berne has planned exactly and on forcing Luciole to cooperate with us to counteract the statuette's magic – if not on convincing her to join forces with us against Berne.” 

“If she can be made to see that he would betray her,” Renette reminds her. “Either way, we should not trust that she would do anything of the sort willingly.”

“Renette, you are closer to the other Knights Divine and know which former templars are still employed in some function at the Grand Cathedral,” Leliana states. “I would task you on investigating what ties Berne still has here – and to ascertain who might be trusted with helping us apprehend him – and doing so if an opportunity presents itself.” 

Renette nods her assent, standing visibly to attention. “I will do my best. I have contacts in the city guard as well, who are trustworthy.”

“Then ask them to help us tonight. We cannot yet be sure with how large Berne's group is.” Leliana indicates for Renette to leave but adds: “Tell them to watch out for the Tevene man dressed in green as well. Whatever you find, whatever we may accomplish in the time we have - we should meet again before Cassandra will have to leave to prepare for the ceremony tonight.” At this Cassandra looks almost pitiful, sinking into the shell of her garments, palpable reluctance radiating off her. “She will have to return to do so, so I suggest we reconvene here in five hours.” It is little enough time for them to achieve any of their goals, but they must try.

“What will you do?” Renette asks, reluctant to depart. 

“We,” Leliana indicates Cassandra with a movement of her head, “will have to work out how to turn the tables on Luciole and her agents. That is – we must take them when they intend to capture Cassandra - me.”

Both Renette's and Cassandra's eyes go wide. 

“They will not expect to be ambushed and so my agents will hopefully be able to take them by surprise. We have means to subdue them quickly,” Leliana explains. “Then we must press Luciole to part with what intelligence she has on Berne – and what her own plans are. We already know some of them and might convince her that Berne is working against her. I know she can be motivated by spite – we might learn much more from her.”

The last addition is plausible, though Leliana exaggerates her confidence. She has to seem certain to  
get Cassandra to go along with her plan, and her protective Right Hand to leave. 

“Good luck,” Renette wishes them as she makes her way to the door.

“Maker go with you,” Leliana says, making the habitual motion of a blessing as she watches her Right Hand depart. 

“I take it calling the whole thing off is still not something you are prepared to do?” Cassandra near growls at her when they are finally alone. 

Leliana goes to her side and lets her hand rest on Cassandra's – a gesture of love, meant to reassure, but the sight of their hands together now is a reminder of their muddled circumstances. Her offering the larger, stronger hand, veins visible on the surface – and Cassandra now in possession of her own slender, long fingers – also strong, but--

“Leliana?” Cassandra's questioning tone shakes her from her musings. 

“No,” she answers, “I do not want to give in to them. Nor do I want to jeopardize what advantage we now have, knowing what their plans were so far.”

Cassandra moves, takes her hand and holds it tightly. “Then I trust your plan.”

Leliana feels Cassandra's tension fade, feels her love returned – Cassandra looks at her with blue-gray eyes full of the trust she has professed. Leliana hopes she will prove worthy of that trust. When she moves closer, however, kisses Cassandra's cheek – her own, but not - a strange delight – Cassandra trembles then recoils. 

***

Leliana has proven capable once again, true to her word. She has assembled a group of ten of her agents, who have been busy plotting strategy with her over a makeshift plan of the layout of the corridor where Leliana was assaulted and taken by the conspirators yesterday. 

Cassandra feels somewhat useless, only relaying Leliana's words and then sitting and watching them work. She had been so glad to make it back to Leliana and out of the clutches of the assembly members, but it turns out that even here she has precious little opportunity to do what she does best. She should have gone with Renette, to talk to the Knights Divine. Some of them she knows, though her time spent working with them is now several years back. But, no, she could not have done that. Bringing the Divine along for such an investigation would have drawn too much attention. She knows Leliana is well-versed in the art of subterfuge, but even she would find it difficult to remain inconspicuous in this guise. Cassandra sighs. Leliana has tried to include her in this discussion, but she knows she will have to fight to convince her to let her come along. 

Leliana's agents have brought their bag of tricks: knock-out powder, traps, holding and defensive spells. Luciole's agents likely won't stand a chance – they might be armed, but they will be taken by surprise, much as Leliana was yesterday. Cassandra only hopes that Leliana will not put herself in undue danger. 

Eventually, Cassandra makes her excuses and instructs the agents to follow “Seeker Pentaghast's” lead, leaves the room and begins preparations of her own. She sends Mila for a change of clothes, plain dark armor and a helm that would hide her face completely. She finds a shirt of chain mail in Leliana's belongings that she sets aside to wear under her vestments at the ceremony tonight. 

***

Her agents are well-hidden – and they hid timely, too. Leliana sends silent thanks to the Maker. What if Luciole's agents had lain in wait already? But Tanner had reported back to her. It was all in place. 

The wait is trying – especially now that she can feel Cassandra's ire at having been talked out of joining their ambush. There is no point risking her – and someone needs to stay in her quarters in case the Inquisitor or any of her agents report back. There is no time to explain who she really is – Cassandra must keep on playing the part of the Divine. 

When she judges it to be around the time she left her quarters the previous day, Leliana dons Cassandra's armor and weapons and retraces her steps down to the training grounds, making sure to slip into the role of the Seeker as she does so – just as before.

On the ground level the hallway looks deserted once again. _Maker, watch over us now._

Steps behind her. 

“Seeker Pentaghast?” 

She turns and Luciole's form approaches, caped and careful. “Can I help you?”

“Oh, I am certain you can.” Her eyes dart behind Leliana. She turns quickly this time and gets a good look at the two figures that fly from the shadows to grab her. They are masked, of course. 

As she steps aside to evade their assault she hears another command, her agents' bird call that prompts their jumping into action. Behind her she hears Luciole call for help, but already four of Leliana's agents have engaged her would-be kidnappers and she watches one sink to his knees, losing consciousness after getting a dose of knock-out powder blown in his face. The other is wrestled down by three of her agents. Leliana turns and sees Luciole holding back Tanner and Rook with a slender, but mean-looking dagger. She would put good money on the likelihood of its being poisoned. 

“Your plan has failed.” Leliana calls to her. “In more ways than you know.”

The woman's expressive face changes from shock to a defensive snarl. “What do you know?!” she spits. 

Leliana gestures to her agents to take Luciole away. The hood they put over her head is a reminder of her own kidnapping. 

They will take her to rooms where Leliana knows they will not be disturbed. Even though she has abjured the cruelty of Sister Nightingale these days, she is still able to project enough of it to intimidate this woman who must tell them all she knows. 

***

Cassandra has been left to her own devices for hours now. There have been no messages and she has alternately cursed the Maker and prayed for forgiveness and their restoration. Whatever is going on, she is certain they could master it much better if they were entirely themselves. 

How could she push away her lover's kindly meant comforts? She had felt the familiar pull – had known it was Leliana when her own reflection had bent down to kiss her – but it was wrong, a reminder of the injury done to them. It had not been Leliana's lips she had felt, but those of a stranger.

She walks about, restless, replaying the day's events in her head, comparing them with what happened the day before. Tries to remember as much as she can of the ceremony when- 

Knocking. Tapping on the window. A raven! A message! The bird acquiesces to her touch, of course. It does not know a stranger is housed within its mistress. The little container is sealed shut and she trembles as she breaks it open. The Inquisitor has sent word – he will arrive at the Grand Cathedral in time for the ceremony. Will that be enough? They can only hope.

Waiting again. She sits in the window seat, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon sun, trying to not let worry eat away at her mind. She must trust the Maker, trust Renette, trust Leliana to find the information they need before they act. If she rests now she can be of more use tonight, she hopes. 

This body, Leliana's, hallowed and beloved – familiar and not – it is driving her to distraction! Her own familiar aches are gone – replaced by different signs of wear she never knew Leliana had. She hides them well. But, oh, this time spent alone – herself in this body she has accepted her desire for, Leliana's beautiful hands, each worshiped scar, well-known callus, her pale skin, dustings of freckles, red hair on her arms catching the sun, the soft swell of her breasts... _No!_ She cannot dwell on it. 

She lets her mind run through the Chant. Familiar phrases bringing comfort and distraction.

When Rook bursts into the room with a message, she knows with one look at him that things have not gone to plan. 

“Seeker Pentaghast sent me.” He indicates the scroll. “She's read it. She said to inform you that they moved on to secure the Cathedral for tonight.”

Whatever has happened has taken precedent over Leliana's earlier plans. She opens the battered scroll to read:

> _Apprehended Berne and large number of his men. City guard has them. Berne dead, myself badly wounded. Contact Guard Captain Philibert._

It is not signed, but Cassandra recognizes Renette d'Arnee's determined lettering, though the message seems scrawled in haste. _Badly wounded._ Cassandra sends a silent prayer to the Maker to watch over the Right Hand. 

“Did the – did Seeker Pentaghast say anything else?” Cassandra catches herself just in time. 

Rook's gaunt face tenses with concentration. “They will secure the Cathedral. You are to continue as planned, but if something seems out of place make sure you are safe first. Oh! And she will send two Knights Divine to take the Right Hand's place.”

Cassandra exhales deeply. “Tell her I have received her messages.” _Could Leliana not have sent a note of her own?_ She clenches her fist in frustration. How can one bear to be Divine when one's ability to act oneself is so curtailed and stifled at every turn? She knows that Leliana has found ways around it, but she cannot use them or does not know. Maker, but she is grateful the College of Clerics did not elect her. Only now – now she is stuck. Out there Leliana and her agents are risking their lives. Renette may well be fighting for hers. They still do not know how to save anyone – let alone themselves. _This void-forsaken helplessness!_

After Rook leaves she screams. 

***

It had been a horrible mess. They had barely gotten Luciole to talk when the news of Renette's clash with Berne and his men had reached them. 

Now Luciole was locked up with some of her agents left to watch over her, while Leliana was surveying the carnage in the barracks where Berne and Renette had come to blows. 

A deep gash rendered his face grotesque and someone, presumably Renette, had hacked his sword arm near off, so that it rests unnaturally mangled and distended across his body, drenching him in his own blood. How had this escalated so? 

Renette was unconscious now, tended to by healers and with one of the city guards refusing to leave her side – a stocky, powerful-looking blonde woman that Leliana made a mental note to ask Renette about once all this was over. 

Whatever else had gone wrong, they had been able to apprehend a large number of Berne's men, who it seemed had been gathered here in a meeting to discuss their move on Luciole and then the Divine. 

Maybe she should be happy that they had thwarted their plans, happy to know that they would not make their move on the initiation ceremony tonight like this, but – had they truly apprehended all of them? Did they have other allies? She had been so sure of her plans – succeeded in convincing herself that if only they stopped Berne and caught Luciole that that would ensure Cassandra's safety. Only now, now there were still nagging doubts in her mind. 

Rook had returned from his errand to Cassandra, bringing with him a message from the Inquisitor who told her he was on his way to answer her call. Would he be there in time? Would this mean being able to stop the Tevinter agent's magic, too? 

She commands some of her agents to stay to aid the guards that now watch over this place, then she goes to meet with the Knights Divine to organize their cooperation with the city guard tonight. 

***

The Nevarran knight Cassandra has noticed among the Knights Divine at this morning's meeting is Helena Anaxas - and what possessed Leliana in appointing her as the Divine's bodyguard in place of Renette eludes Cassandra. Their conversation predictably has stalled after an awkward start and an even more awkward excursion into the state of the Chantry in Nevarra. Nevarran politics have never been a topic that would have guaranteed an easy exchange - though Leliana would not doubt listen and nod politely and ask intelligent questions. Cassandra, however, only has managed to stifle her groans. 

Yes, no doubt this woman is cable. Yes, no doubt she is experienced and trustworthy. However, she is also very Nevarran, a relative of Duke Sandral and evidently eager to make use of the chance to speak to the Divine about her homeland. Thank the Maker Cassandra is not sharing this small room with this woman as herself – or else she might want to discuss the ways the Pentaghasts and Anaxas are prominently related. All the noble families in Nevarra intermarry, of course. Cassandra bends her head and rolls her eyes. 

At least the woman's chatter has suitably distracted her from her worries and shaken her from her helpless anger. Maybe this was Leliana's plan all along. 

At least she has seen Leliana again – albeit briefly and not alone. She is out there now, hoping to find the Inquisitor, hoping that the guards and knights stationed around the Cathedral will prevent the attempt on her life. 

The chain mail is heavy underneath the already weighty vestments of the Divine and Cassandra is happy for once that she is trained in moving in heavy armor as though not really conscious of its weight. She must seem composed and the very image of the benevolent and elegant Divine Victoria, but she does not intend to repeat the experience of a dagger to the sternum. 

She reads Leliana's speech again. Today, no doubt, she will be able to speak more freely. _Maker, forgive me. Watch over me. Give me strength._

Leaving the sacristy and stepping into the Grand Cathedral Cassandra has the most pronounced sense of deja vu she has had since waking up in the morning. The sounds, the smells – it all has been this way before. Only the woman walking behind her is different. Renette is not here. _Maker, preserve her!_

The congregation rises and a choir of sisters begins to sing. Cassandra feels odd, almost in a dream as she tries her best to join in once again.

When the Chant has ended, Cassandra begins to speak, concentrating on the words, Leliana's voice, her accent. She cannot worry now about the target she knows herself to be. 

She gets quite far into the speech with no disruptions from the Northern aisle this time. When she looks up briefly, the ranks of the Knights Divine still form a protective line between the crowd and herself. She also sees guards now, lining the aisles where yesterday there were none. 

Suddenly figures materialize in clouds of smoke all throughout the Grand Cathedral. There are gasps and screams as magic is cast, guards rush forward, Cassandra feels the closed ranks of the Knights Divine using powerful dispells to subdue what magic is directed at her. As she wants to rush forward to find Leliana in the chaos, Helena Anaxas steps in front of her. A dagger flies past them and she hears its impact behind them. 

There is a sudden rush of wind and Cassandra has the uncanny sensation of being caught in the rapids of wild water. Everything turns green, then black – then she knows no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took me a while to finish this chapter. Life is busy right now. It is a bit longer than the others, however, so maybe that makes up for the wait. ;)


	6. 6

The pull of the water is overwhelming, is all Cassandra can feel. Devoid of all other senses, she is helpless as the current pulls her down, down, further still. Panic begins to settle in her chest as her lungs burn. She needs to fight – to break free!

She wakes with a deep gasp, eyes flying open with the relief of her release from the nightmare, and she is momentarily blinded by a stinging ray of thin sunlight. It spills over the resting forms in the bed, having crept through a crack in the curtains of Leliana's bedroom.

Cassandra closes her eyes again and slows her breathing. She is safe. She is back to where they begin.

Next to her, Leliana is still fast asleep. Cassandra slowly extracts herself from the sheets and blankets that have twisted around her too tightly in her sleep, turns carefully to better observe her love. They are still in the wrong bodies, but the relief of being alive overwhelms her dismay at that fact. Cassandra watches the face that is her own - the perceived reflection of herself - relaxed in sleep, knowing Leliana's spirit is there. Her heart swells with love and the need to protect. She hopes Leliana has been spared the nightmare.

It must be earlier than before. Should she wake Leliana? An early start to the day might prove an advantage. Yet she is hesitant to disturb Leliana's rest. Eventually she gets up herself, slips into Leliana's dressing gown and opens the curtains a little more. The late autumn sun casts a golden light as it rises over the buildings of the Grand Cathedral and is reflected manifold in the great building's many windows. The crows have begun to swarm around their tower, but have not yet come to make their presence known at Leliana's apartments.

There is a pitcher of water on the nightstand and she fills a cup and drinks deeply, putting off waking Leliana as she knows she must. She should let her recover – this body is exhausted and fighting off the cold she caught. Cassandra sighs.

She goes to search for Leliana's favorite tea and puts a kettle on the little stove in Leliana's office. If she cannot bring her true relief, at least this will ease Leliana's waking.

Cassandra steps softly, carefully setting down the tray with the tea. She sits down at Leliana's side and tenderly puts her hand on the sleeping woman's hip. “Leliana?” she whispers, then repeats the name until she feels her stir, dipping into the world again slowly.

Leliana's eyes barely open and she groans, a familiar frown appearing on the face she wears. “What?” she begins, squinting at the figure outlined in the light of the sun. A flicker of recognition before she curls up into a ball and closes her eyes again with an exasperated sigh. “Again?”

“I woke early. I am not sure how much time we have, but we should make use of it.” Cassandra retrieves the tea from the tray on the floor and offers it to Leliana, who sits up and accepts it with a pained, but grateful smile.

“I was at the ceremony again,” Cassandra begins, “much was the same but then – mages appeared. It all happened very quickly before whatever magic brought us back here before caught a hold of me. I don't remember – I think they may have been from Tevinter, but -” she hesitates. She is not sure.

Leliana sips her tea a grim expression on her face. Cassandra presses on: “Berne – working with Tevinter mages? Renette sent a note. She was injured – what happened?”

“I cannot be sure, but there are more signs pointing to a Tevinter involvement. We have to send a message to the Inquisitor now. They were too late to arrive yesterday.” Leliana puts down her tea and slips out of bed and to the window with swift, determined movements. Having opened the window she calls to the birds circling the tower. Her voice, Cassandra's voice, is a pitiful croak. Leliana turns with an impatient grimace. “Help me!”

The autumn air is brisk and fresh, streaming past her as Cassandra leans out of the window to call down the Nightingale's ravens. A small voice within her protests that this is ridiculous – but the birds do respond to her imitation of the call – and to Leliana's voice.

“Well done.” Leliana whispers beside her and wraps her arms around Cassandra's waist. The sensation makes Cassandra stiffen, it is wrong – the embrace of a stranger – the arms larger and the form of the woman behind her enveloping much of her as she leans forward. It is only my body – it is Leliana, she reminds herself and relaxes a little as warmth blossoms in her chest.

Two ravens alight on the window sill, and Leliana instructs Cassandra to feed them seeds as she quickly disappears to write her message to the Inquisitor. The birds remain, pecking at the seeds and cocking their heads occasionally to watch her with studious eyes.

Leliana reappears and attaches a message to one of the birds and sends it off. The other remains and continues its scrutiny. More ravens begin their descent towards them.

“Hopefully Renette will have kept her memories, this should help us to be more effective today and time might help us avoid the bloodshed at the stables.” Leliana explains but then sits down on the bed again with a groan, pulling a blanket over her shoulders, shivering. Cassandra hastily closes the window. “Is there more tea, Cassandra?” The strong warrior's form is now sunken in on herself, the cold really must be bad. Cassandra hurries to refill Leliana's cup even as the ravens begin to peck at the now-shut window.

As she steps out of the bedroom to heat water for more tea, the apartment's door opens and Mila enters.

“Oh!” Mila recoils at her sight, then lowers her head as she bows. “Most Holy! You are up.”

Cassandra quickly draws the dressing gown around her more tightly, then remembers that she is meant to feign illness. She coughs. “I am not feeling my best, Mila. Please send my healer.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, Most Holy.” Mila bows again. “Most Holy, there are urgent messages.” Mila holds up the scroll she is carrying. “This came from the Imperial Palace.”

“Thank you, Mila.” Cassandra drawls in her best version of Leliana's accent. She is getting better at this. “You may leave me to dress on my own, but please be quick about sending the healer.”

Mila leaves, an alarmed look on her face, and Cassandra breaks the seal of the scroll, knowing too well already the message contained within.

***

Cassandra sets off to meet with the Empress as the healer arrives. Their plan for the day has been set and Cassandra is determined to get out of Leliana's Divine duties as quickly as she can. The script plays over in her head as she is escorted to the Council.

There, she flies through the obligatory greetings with practiced ease – the right word ready to cut to the chase, to dispatch all those that seek her audience with expedient advice. This is not so bad if one has the advantage of rehearsal, Cassandra finds. Her nerves are calmer today, her mind preoccupied usefully with remembering the right things to say. She greets the arriving Empress, sits down at the head of the table with what she hopes is a wise and welcoming smile and invites the members of the council to do the same.

When the shifting of chairs and chatter has stopped Cassandra begins: 

“This meeting is a courtesy to our Empress of Orlais. We will hear what she has to say, and I ask you to consider her words in your own hearts. The initiation of Sister Zerlinda into the ranks of the Mothers is planned for this evening. To postpone would be a mistake.”

The attention of the assembled dignitaries is on her. She watches as some lean to their neighbors, whispering things she cannot make out. The Empress watches her – a living image of the marble busts placed throughout Orlais – immovable and still.

“Most Holy,” the Empress begins, “I disagree. There can be no mistake in reconsidering such a hasty decision. Yes, the Council has voted – but not unanimously. We merely suggest they be given the time to further think on the historical implication this decision would have. I fear such a rush to bring progress simply for progress' sake is not advisable.”

 _Wait, this is not the script._ Cassandra shifts nervously. Maker, have I made a mistake?

The murmuring of the assembly swells until Revered Mother Edith coughs with slowly increasing volume. “If I... If I may, Empress, your suggestion of further deliberation is quite welcome. I do not intend to go back on my vote. I am glad, however, of the chance of further discussing the ceremony tonight – if indeed it should be tonight, as I am sure are many of my fellow clerics. If this will also satisfy the Empress, then all the better.”

Cassandra watches incredulously as many of the Mothers and Clerics nod in agreement. “Would postponing not send its own message?” she interjects.

The chatter of the assembly intensifies. Many look to her – then to the Empress as if a match of some sort were to take place right here and now. This is not an argument she has time to fight out today. Not when she and Leliana have set such careful plans in motion. Soon, she will have to find Renette, instruct her to apprehend Berne without bloodshed. Then prepare for the intruders, the counter-kidnap, the arrival of the Inquisitor, the security of the congregation. The congregation. What if-

She rises and a hush falls over the assembly as all eyes are on her once again. “I see our Empress is right in that this Council has need of further deliberation on the matter of the planned ceremony for Sister Zerlinda. Therefore I suggest that they do so. The initiation shall be postponed until they come to an agreement.”

To her right the rotund Brother sputters. Helena Anaxas' frown barely masks the fury in her eyes. To her left Mother Edith smiles and nods, already bending her ear to her chatty neighbor. Mostly, however the Council members seem confounded by this change, Cassandra registers their sighs and subtle shakes of the heads.

The Empress across the table is a marble statue still. Eventually she rises, thanks them all and is escorted out of the room.

Cassandra's heart begins to sink. _Maker, have I made the right decision?_ It will give her precious time today – but what else will it bring?

***

Cassandra truly has done excellent work this morning. Messages have been sent, the healer has been here already and Leliana can feel her aches and pains lessen considerably as she readies herself for the day. Only a short nap today - Mila had been instructed to wake her after half an hour. Before that – a message dispatched to Renette to meet her. And now the woman herself arrives, a little breathless from her haste.

“Good Morning, Renette.” Leliana greets her, then tries her luck. “Do you remember-”

“- yesterday? Yes. And before.” Renette holds her gaze.

“Good, that will make things easier – and quicker. Time is of the essence, I believe.”

Renette quickly steps closer. “Are we alone?”

“For now.” Leliana motions for her Right Hand to follow her into her office.

Renette clears her throat. “I failed you yesterday. That will not happen again.”

“Hush, you did not such thing. We were not well enough prepared – but we know more now. We have been given another chance at unraveling this, let's do our best.”

Renette nods and straightens her back. She looks the picture of determination and Leliana has to smile. “You did not know you would face so many men when you went looking for Berne.”

“I... we surprised them, I believe.” Renette's face is tense, lined with both concentration and anger. “They were – they are holed up in those stables, waiting for their moment. Berne was – he was all bluster and blather – I did not think him such a threat. I thought I could reason with him, but then he drew his sword – called for the attack.” She shakes her head. “He concentrated on me. I thought I could stall him, just tire him out. But then he – he made a motion – I think it was a signal to attack me from behind. When I felt the blade I knew I had to end the fight. I wish I could have kept him alive. I thought if I knocked away his blade...”

Leliana raises an eyebrow. “You had his arm clear off.”

“He goaded me.” Renette spits. “I felt like a bull in those Antivan arenas. There was no more time for diplomacy.”

“I am not saying it was wrong.” Leliana interjects.

Renette swallows. “I regret losing my patience.”

“If you had not,” Leliana says, putting her hand on her Right Hand's arm, “we might have lost you – and more besides.”

In the silence that follows they hear hurried footsteps approaching – then the apartment's door open and close heavily.

“Hello?” a melodious voice with a somewhat not quite Orlesian inflection calls out.

“With Renette – in my office.” Leliana calls back. How has Cassandra returned so quickly?

Cassandra appears in the door frame a moment later: a disheveled and red-cheeked Divine with an expression that is a study in barely contained irritation that is so very much like Cassandra – at odds with Leliana's face. “I did not intend to, but somehow...” Her frown deepens. “I have called off the Initiation.”

***

Leliana's reaction had been at once not as bad and much worse than Cassandra had expected. She had been quiet – sad. Cassandra had expected admonishments, but instead received silence. Leliana had helped her out of the Divine's headdress without saying another word. Afterwards she had felt uncomfortable and excused herself, grateful for the pretext of having to change out of the heavy and costly garments she wore.

Leliana and Renette had resumed their conversation as more and more of Leliana's agents arrived. Cassandra stayed out of the way and tried to feel the part of herself again that was not this disappointment of a Mock-Divine.

Now, alone again, she sits by an open window, letting the bracing air clear her head. Below, voices are singing – is it the chant? Maybe not - the melody is hard to place. Occasionally the flutter of wings adds a strange rhythm to the song.

Cassandra allows her mind to wander and is startled when a sharp pain shoots through her arm. The culprit looks at her with beady eyes then croaks insistently. Cassandra offers her arm and the crow hops on. Sure enough, there is a message on the crow's leg. Cassandra carefully unties it.

> _Your Perfection!_

Cassandra has to smirk at the sight of Inquisitor Trevelyan's confident and elaborate calligraphy. It reminds her much of the man himself.

> _I understand that you already miss the joy of my exquisite company. Will make my way to the cathedral swiftly. - G.T._

Well, this is good news, at least. Cassandra rewards the messenger with a generous helping of seeds, kept ready near the windowsill for Leliana's birds.

She shuts the window. How will she let Leliana know? Hopefully Renette and her have been successful – or more successful than before. She sends a new prayer to the Maker to keep them safe.


	7. 7

They are early. Much earlier than yesterday in making it to Berne's hideout. Renette enlisted a group of the city guard to back up herself, Leliana and her agents. Well, it is not so uncommon to see the current Right Hand work with the former. Leliana thanks the Maker for that. They have no time to answer questions. 

No more mistakes. They know where Berne's men are hidden – where they were surprised by them yesterday. Leliana motions to her agents to get in position to take out what targets they can. They are armed with needle-like daggers dipped in quick-acting poisons that will not kill, but bring about sleep, muscle spasms or whatever else her agents prefer. As long as they make sure their targets are taken out of this fight for good, Leliana will not question individual methods. No slaughter today, at least. She will take what prisoners she can. If she cannot make them see the error of their ways, if they cannot be brought back into the fold – at least they can be made to talk. 

When everyone is in place she casts off the cloak she has been wearing, ensures the dagger and sword at her side are ready and signals Renette. Together they walk into the lion's den, hoping the element of surprise is still on their side. 

The Maker is with them. Berne shows much the same surprise as he did before, leaping to his feet – as do the men around him – and drawing his sword. He still rebuffs their attempts to parlay and instead calls for his men – a horn sounds – but this time there are no armored boots approaching. There are some distant shouts of surprise and pain – her agents have worked well. 

Berne's eyes are wide with shock and rage. Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages at them, finally throws himself at them. The men at his side still seem too bewildered to know whether they should do the same. Good. This way it is only Renette engaged in combat while the guard marches in to make sure Berne's inner circle don't change their mind about putting up any resistance. 

After a few minutes' heated battle, Renette disarms Berne and body-checks him with such force that he loses his footing and topples to the ground. Her Right Hand is a quick study who has put to good use what she has learned about the man's fighting technique, strengths and weaknesses. Leliana fights the urge to applaud as Renette gets up, triumphant. When Berne lunges back up after her, one of the guards quickly knocks him in the back of his head with the hilt of her sword. He is still out cold as his body is carried away to the cells. His co-conspirators are marched off behind him. Finally more guards help to wheel off his unconscious men. This will make for a full prison, and Maker knows what answers they will get. Hopefully, if not Berne, they will get someone else to talk. 

***

Cassandra is restless. Waiting, alone, she once again finds herself painfully aware of the body she is now housed in. Leliana's body. She has studied it before, of course – when they have been intimate, when Leliana has allowed her to explore and wonder – or when she has watched her old friend work, spar, fight – or yet more recently - move with impossible grace as if her heavy liturgical garments weighed nothing at all. 

She stands lighter than she has felt for many years – feels more nimble. It would be easier to forget their predicament sometimes if not for the constant many reminders that this body is not hers. All limbs react to her commands, but not always quite as she expects or is used to from her own body.

Her experience of being has shifted, is oddly different the more she dwells on it. The past days she has been driven by so much adrenaline, she has often not had the time to think – but now that she does it makes sense she has felt clumsy so often. It is this _waiting_ with nothing she can do, this _torture_! 

Left-handed, she has trained to fight leading with both the left and right, knowing the importance of being able to defend oneself even if hit in the favored arm. Writing, however, is another matter, as are so many small everyday movements that she does without thinking. She has not been focusing on that she realizes now with a start – has anyone noticed? Trying so hard to impersonate Leliana has she slipped up and give herself away thoughtlessly opening doors with the wrong hand? _The wrong hand. Blast it all._

A late lunch arrives and Cassandra is presented with vegetable stew and bread, which she asked for, and artfully arranged glazed fruit and a kind of hard and sweet almond cookie, which she has not. Leliana appreciates this cloying sweetness and her staff must know to include it on occasion. She must seem awfully out of sorts as Leliana – no wonder they thought it necessary. 

She has just finished eating when there is a knock at the door and Mila enters with a beaming young man in tow. 

“Greetings and Salutations, Your Perfection!” The Inquisitor dips into an exaggerated bow. “I am at your command.” 

Cassandra has to stifle her immediate reaction to his theatrical entrance and instead opts for a simple and practical “Welcome, Inquisitor.” 

After she has dismissed Mila she greets him with a more familiar grip of the arm. “It is good to see you, my friend.” Not letting go of him she delivers him to a nearby chair. “We need your help. There is little time to explain.”

His look is decidedly confused. “Ow!” he shouts in mock protest, “Alright! You will have it!” He massages his bicep and pouts. “I am happy for the both of you, but if our dear Seeker taught you that move I am going to have to object to her influence on you. I am used to much gentler treatment from the most divine of Divines, former fearsome Nightingale of the Inquisition.”

Cassandra groans and sits down in the chair facing him. Maker, but Gilbert Trevelyan is still a handful. His boyish charm has often worked in his favor – and the Inquisition's favor by extension – but to Cassandra the experience of trying to keep the impish rogue safe has been akin to trying to herd an implausibly charming group of cats. There is a patch of gray hair at her temple she is pretty sure she owes entirely to the experience. Well, she looks forward to returning the favor and being the one giving _him_ a headache for once. 

“You are still in regular contact with Dorian?” she begins.

“Never truly apart.” he whispers, clasping a hand to his heart then waiting a beat before slipping his hand into his jacket and producing a sending crystal from a pocket within.

Cassandra leans in. “Good.” she says. “Because he will need to hear this.”

***

Leliana's agents have prepared well for this counter-kidnapping. Her intelligence has helped, of course – and Luciole obviously does not seem to benefit from memories of the previous day that she herself has retained. 

With each of Luciole's agents' locations known to them and every step, attack and counter familiar to her they have overcome their resistance even more swiftly than before. 

They are gagged, disguised with cloaks and blankets, and taken away to the cellars Leliana has made their improvised base of operations. 

Within minutes the corridors are as empty as they were before. Only motes of disturbed dust dance in the sunlight. 

***

Cassandra has never seen this magic used before. She has heard of sending crystals, even come across them when they investigated the Venatori – but watching this ghostly shape of Dorian flicker in and out of existence while his voice is jarred by the crackle of magic is a new experience that makes the hair on her arms stand on end. 

They had initially not been successful in reaching Dorian, so Cassandra had begun to explain their current dilemma to Trevelyan – who had been most gratifyingly aghast - when the crystal finally came to life. 

“Well, this is most fascinating, Amatus, but I do not understand this particular kind of curse.” Dorian's image flickered in consternation. 

“Ah, but I have not yet reached the part that is really going to pique your interest, darling!” Gilbert's grin widens by impossible margins. “There is time magic at work here!”

“Time magic? In a body-switching spell?” 

Trevelyan cackles with glee. “Oh no, I do believe they are separate problems entirely – but you do see now why the girls need our help?”

Cassandra's brow furrows. The man's levity is entirely impervious to almost any threat or danger. “I do not know why, but I believe we are stuck in a time loop. This day is repeating and each time it appears to be caused by a Tevinter agent.”

Dorian's image slowly turns towards her voice. “A Tevinter agent? What did he do?”

“Each time there was an attempt on the Divine's life. I am not sure at all if – I don't believe this agent is connected to it directly. In fact, this might have been an attempt to confuse the attacker. The spell produced a quantity of green smoke – and that is the last thing I remember before I wake up and it is morning again.”

“Fascinating.” Dorian's image appears invigorated with his excitement. “Tell me all you remember. Do not leave out any detail, no matter how small it might appear to you.”

***

Luciole closes her eyes and flinches, blinded by the sudden light of the lamps, when they take the hood off her head. 

Leliana decides to leave the gag for a while – give Luciole the opportunity to see where she has been brought – and who has been brought here, too, to meet her. 

Berne is gagged as well, tied to a sturdy chair in the center of the room. There is another chair opposite him to which the struggling Luciole is tied swiftly by her agents. 

Leliana remains in the shadows in the corner of the room, outside of the circle of bright light that surrounds her two prisoners. Let them see each other. Let them understand their plan has failed. 

And yet, there is more Leliana does not know – more they might hide. Leliana is certain Luciole is keeping some secrets close to her heart still. As for Berne, who normally loves the sound of his own voice, they missed their chance so far to hear what he had to say.

The Nightingale circles just out of sight. Berne's face has grown red as he struggles with his gag trying to speak, snorting in frustration, eyes wide at the sight of his co-conspirator. Good. 

Luciole keeps her head down, dark hair falling forward, covering most of her face. A tactic Leliana herself has used. She wonders at the workings of this woman's mind. The stories she is working on now, the compromises she is willing to make. Yesterday, her composure had been smooth as marble and twice as hard. Yesterday, Leliana had failed to make any meaningful discoveries. Her time in the dungeons the day before had yielded more information. Today, Leliana hopes, Berne will help her undo that composure. 

***

“Oh, I am certain this is time magic. I am even reasonably certain I know your man.” 

Cassandra feels blindsided by Dorian's eventual revelation. “You know him?!” 

Gilbert Trevelyan gleefully snatches the crystal from the table and tosses it into the air then catches it again with a cry. Dorian's image distorts and disappears. “I knew you were a genius, Amatus!” he shouts into the crystal in his palm. The magic around the crystal grows weaker and fades with a fizzle of static energy. 

“Amatus?!” Trevelyan shouts and shakes the crystal. “Well, I guess it did not like that.” He shoots a sheepish grin into Cassandra's direction and places the crystal back onto the table. 

Which is fortunate because Cassandra does not have to worry about damaging their means of communicating with Dorian when she grabs Trevelyan by the lapels of his jacket and pulls him level with her face. She would hoist him up higher, but as surprisingly strong as Leliana's body is – it does lack some of the height and solid muscle that Cassandra is used to. The flash of anger renders her unable to speak for a moment and so she simply snarls at him. 

Gilbert Trevelyan has the good grace to look suitably sobered after his initial shock. “Alright! Sorry! I'll shape up!” he mumbles as she lets go of him and turns her back, trying to regain her composure. “Maker, Cassandra! If I had any doubts it was you in there...”

“I am sorry, Inquisitor, but we do not have the time for your idea of fun and games.”

He clears his throat with apologetic consternation. “No, evidently we do not.” 

Mercifully, in the silence that follows, the crystal begins to hum again.

“Dorian!” Trevelyan exclaims and touches the crystal, calling forth the image of the man. “I do apologize. I got a little carried away there.” 

The magical shadow of Dorian laughs and crackles. “You don't say.”

“You said you knew the Tevinter agent.” Cassandra interrupts. 

“Yes. I am quite certain I sent him.”

“You?!”

“Ah, well – I did not send him to the Grand Cathedral, I must hasten to add. I did, however, instruct him to keep an eye of certain compatriots of mine that seemed to form a plot against the Orlesian Empire.”

“What sort of plot are you talking about?”

“One designed to weaken the powers in charge – to introduce a Tevinter influence. You see, they watched with interest to see what became of your Templar order, your Circles. Ah, but what to make of it? On the one hand those proficient in fighting mages are now scattered to the wind – on the other hand your mages are less likely now to turn to Tevinter in desperation. Not that that excludes acts of desperation entirely.”

“I do not understand what point you are trying to make, Dorian.”

“My point is that I believe that you have – in your midst – someone desperate enough to collaborate with Tevinter. Someone close enough to the Divine to put such a plot into action. Someone who no longer cares about the risk because they imagine their actions will either restore their power – or bring about revenge against the people they feel wronged by.” 

“A templar?” One templar in particular. The dread makes her stomach sink. 

“I believe so. Who better than vile Tevinter mages to materialize in the midst of your most holy Grand Cathedral to drive home the point that their expertise is still needed?” 

Berne was truly insane then – more dangerous than she even anticipated. “Why did you not warn us?”

“I did! I instructed my agent to make contact. Things seem to have moved more quickly than anticipated, however.”

Cassandra feels rage and fear throb at her temples. “They did not simply appear – they attempted to assassinate the Divine.”

“Well, what else would you expect them to do at the Grand Cathedral? Simply show their faces and be conveniently defeated by your former templars? No, I am certain they wanted something out of this deal as well. Luckily, it seems, my agent put a wrench in those works, however.”

“The time loop.” 

“Clever of him, I have to say.” Dorian's image twirls, fingers playing with his mustache. “Giving you the time to come up with a plan of defense.”

Cassandra swallows heavily. “Who else does it affect? Will it end if we manage to stop this invasion? Why-”

“Affect? My dear, it affects all of us. Do you mean, who else retains their memories? That would be all of those present at the time the spell first was cast. Those caught in its immediate radius.”

“Leliana, Renette and myself – and your agent. Where is he?”

Dorian hesitates. “I do not know. He may not have been here before the ceremony. The last time I was in contact with him he was in Hunter Fell.”

“In Nevarra?!” Cassandra almost shouts.

“Well, it is between Tevinter and Orlais.” Gilbert adds unhelpfully.

Cassandra is gratified to see that the image of Dorian shoots him a similarly disdainful look as herself. 

“My point is, I did not even think he would be close enough. He may only arrive here with the rest of the Tevinters. I am sure he would have offered his help if he could.”

Cassandra clenches her teeth. “We must inform Leliana.” 

“Yes, I understand.” Dorian nods. “Until then, however, let me give you some advice on how to greet my wayward countrymen when they arrive.”

***

Leliana does not dare move an inch. Cassandra's body, much as she appreciates it, is not built for stealth. 

Next to her Ritts scribbles furiously as Berne and Luciole hurl insults at each other. Let her, Leliana surmises – there may yet be useful information buried within the vitriol and accusations of incompetence.

When the two adversarial co-conspirators calm, exhausted and frustrated, she finally steps into the light. Their eyes turn to her, burning with hatred. Berne spits in her direction – adding to the spittle already dripping down his chin. Luciole visibly straightens in her chair at the sight of her.

Best to bait them, Leliana decides. “You see that we have caught you both.” She intones in her best Nevarran drawl. She turns to Luciole – then Berne. “Your plan has failed. Your men are now locked away in the city prisons.”

Berne laughs, but Leliana sees the worry and anger still in his eyes. 

They do not know about the curse – they do not know about the time magic. They do not know she has the advantage of knowing how all this could play out today. They do not even know the ceremony has been canceled - do they? 

“You think you will still take a stand today? The ceremony has been canceled. Our trap is in place.” The last part is a lie – but why not make them believe it?

The disappointment is briefly all too visible on Berne's face – but then his expression hardens. “Even so. There will still be losses. You have no idea what you are dealing with.”

Leliana allows herself the barest hint of a smile – she hopes it is as menacing on Cassandra's face as she intends it to be. “Ah, but do you really think us so unprepared for a rag-tag band of Tevinter mercenaries.” 

“They are not mer-” Berne snaps just as Luciole's head twists in shock. 

“Tevinters?” Her voice is incredulous as she interrupts him. “What did you do?”

“What?” Berne mocks, sneering at Luciole. “Did you think I'd really allow myself to rely only on you – on your hare-brained schemes - after your ridiculous failure?” 

He turns back to Leliana. “You may think you are prepared, but I have opened the door to a force that you will not be able to overcome without my help!”

“We will see about that.” Leliana counters. “They will be expecting you to be there. Imagine their surprise at finding there not a group of ex-templars to enact a battle for show with – but instead the might of the Knights Divine and Imperial soldiers ready to cut them all down?” She is bluffing now, but with it comes the growing realization that that is indeed what they might have to prepare in order to overcome the threat coming their way. 

She will have to prioritize. A personal sacrifice versus a public one. An easy choice after all. “Take her. I will deal with her later.” She gestures to Luciole and her agents soon bear her away. 

“Now,” she bends down to the despicable man in front of her, “now is the time to make deals, if you hope to live to see another day.”

***

The Grand Cathedral is closed off, the area cleared of all souls unnecessary for their endeavor. There is no ceremony tonight, but they are prepared for a show of Tevinter force all the same. Cassandra watches the proceedings from a window across the courtyard. The Inquisitor is down there – as are Leliana and Renette and what Knights Divine and soldiers they could bring here with the constraints of time as they were. 

She watches a runner approach the collected forces, he is is a green blur against the sunset-tinged stones of the buildings and grounds. 

A clamor begins to rise from the inside of the cathedral, drifting up to hear on the wind. She watches the knights below tense and shift into formation. 

Then her head begins to hurt, her vision fades. She concentrates, blinks in confusion as green mist once more forms around her. The pull of the magic is familiar now, but not less frightening. 

_How?_

When she can hold on no longer, the flowing darkness claims her.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's a new year but Cassandra and Leliana are still stuck in this time loop and in each other's bodies - but they are working on it!*

She is being shaken awake with increasing violence, and though the fog in her brain does not lift entirely Leliana feels herself connecting with the waking world more and more with each harsh tremor. Someone is calling her name – it is loud, too loud. Finally, sharp pain cuts through the dullness and she pushes away – against the hands digging into her arms, “- me go!” she shouts, the first word remains unvoiced – her throat is raw and dry. She coughs, still fighting against the hold on her.

“Leliana!” The voice is familiar and yet – it does not immediately reassure her. She feels herself released, sinks back into the softness of the pillows. Her body aches and the pain in her head forms itself to a single harsh point as she focuses on it. She groans, curls up away from the light. 

“Leliana? I'm sorry. We have much to do.” The voice is kind now, as is the touch of the hands when they return to her – resting lightly on her shoulder. The light around her is too bright. The memories that come rushing back to her as she comes awake fully make her scream with their intensity. 

The touch retreats. When she has calmed again she hears a whisper: “I should not have woken you yet. I apologize, but I...” 

Leliana reaches for the person at her side – for Cassandra. “To come back to you is worth any pain, my love.” She feels a hand take hers – so alien still, feeling her own hand with Cassandra's – and pain subsides briefly as her heart is comforted. 

“If you can manage, we should begin making preparations.” 

Leliana gives a brief squeeze of her hand. “I will get up soon, let me gather my strength. Will you be able to send the same letters we sent out yesterday?”

“I will.” Cassandra rises from the bed, leaves in search of pen and parchment. 

Leliana can feel the heat of her love retreating. She forces herself to brace the chill and the light of the day. They must do all they can – and soon - they came so close the day before. Everything they succeeded in needs to be replicated exactly as it was – only – they need to be faster, more efficient. They need to inform many more people if they can. Be prepared for the Tevinter mages. Stall them, stop them – make sure they can reverse the time magic this time as well as prevent the coup that Berne and Luciole have set in motion. 

When Cassandra returns with tea for her and messages prepared, Leliana sits up and accepts her offerings with gratitude. “You have done well. Thank you.” The lettering of the messages is clearly not her own, a shaky scrawl, but Cassandra has convincingly remembered her tone. Someone else might have written them down for her – Leliana smiles as she watches Cassandra squirm at the compliment on her skills as a forger. If her love were in her own body, her blush would be a delight to behold. 

“I did my best.” Cassandra still looks uncomfortable. “Will you deal with the birds while I get dressed?”

Clearly she means to preempt Mila's help. Leliana puts on a robe and shawl before sending the messages – to the Inquisitor, Renette, her trusted agents and healers - and wishes their ravens a swift journey sending the Maker's blessing after them when they depart. 

When Mila arrives in search of the Divine she finds her dressed and waiting – immediately rushing her out of the door again. 

Leliana laughs at her aide's expression after they have gone. Soon after her healers arrive and get to work. Good, there is no more time to waste by resting. 

***

Cassandra leaves the meeting as quickly as she can. Behind her she hears shouts of “Most Holy?!” as she picks up speed and steadies herself on the wall to take the next corner. There will be no ceremony tonight. She hopes she has done the right thing. They have not heard from Renette, who was in the thick of it all the night before. Has she been too quick? Will Leliana's agents be swift enough to prevent the conspirators sending messages to the invading Tevinters? Her head hurts. Self-doubt and self-admonishments leave her shaking with anger as she reaches the Divine's apartments. 

She hears Leliana and Renette in Leliana's office but instead heads for the bedroom. She needs a moment to collect herself – to let go of this rage. A moment to herself. 

She closes the door, biting down the urge to slam it. Eyes closed Cassandra takes in the silence of the room. This cannot go on any longer. She cannot endure it. How can they hope to escape the twin curses that have them in their tangled grip? Have the bastard Berne and his accomplices managed to trap them in a never-ending hell? Always inching closer and closer to a solution that remains elusive? 

She forces herself to recite a few verses of the Chant. _All crimes pardoned! Let no soul harbor guilt! Let Balance be restored._ The rhythm of the familiar usually calms her – but now, now it only reminds her with each line that comes to her, with each beat of her predicament and her impossible crime. Impersonating the Most Holy in the Divine's very own body. _All crimes pardoned?_ An ugly laugh escapes her. 

When she opens her eyes, she blinks – there, on the bed, black bodies twisted around each other, is the obsidian statuette. What a fool to be beguiled by it! With a scream she has seized it and, before she can form another thought, her arms moving as if only beholden to her rage, she flings it into the corner of the room. Time slows as she watches it miss the wall and instead embed itself in the door of Leliana's nightstand. 

Has there been a crash? Cassandra could not say. She only hears, after a dizzing moment of utter quiet, the staccato approach of running feet – then Renette and Leliana burst into the room. 

“What-?” Leliana begins, then follows Cassandra's line of sight to the current resting place of the cursed idol. 

Cassandra cannot speak. Fury and fear still have her in their choke hold. She clenches her jaw, and folds her arms to stop their tremble. 

Renette pushes past them to inspect the damage done more closely before carefully wedging the statuette out of the wooden door with considerable force. Afterwards she sets the object down on top of the nightstand. 

“Thank you.” Leliana says, “Leave us for a moment.” 

Renette nods and departs, closing the door behind her. 

Cassandra exhales and sits down on the bed heavily. “Leliana...” she begins, but hesitates. She feels Leliana's anger in the silence between them.

“Did you even think-” Leliana's voice is a growl. She pauses, takes a deep breath. “What if you had destroyed it? Did you think that would free us from this curse? More likely it would trap us like this forever!” 

Leliana is pacing, her footfalls heavier in Cassandra's shoes. 

Cassandra cannot fault Leliana for her anger – what possessed her to throw the statuette? “Forgive me.” Her voice is still breathless. She looks up and searches for Leliana's eyes. “I am not sure how long I can keep doing this and keep my sanity. I lost my temper – more than that. Maker forgive me.” 

Leliana's lips are clenched but her shoulders relax and she comes over to sit down next to Cassandra on her bed. “I do understand, Cassandra. This is wearing on all of us. But, Andraste give us strength, we cannot give in to desperation. We have to do better today. I know we are moving closer to solving this, Cassandra – and so do you.”

Cassandra nods. “We cannot lose hope, I know.”

Leliana puts a strong arm around Cassandra, drawing her closer. “I know this is harder on you. I am asking you for a lot, keeping up this charade.” 

Cassandra looks down at the robes she is still wearing. “Please help me, Leliana. I cannot do this without you.” She can feel her love hesitate - visibly strugging with her own emotions.

Then, her face projecting resolution, Leliana leans in and presses a tender kiss against her cheek. “Shall I begin with the hat?” she suggests before helping Cassandra to rid herself of the heavy mitre.

***

Leliana signs another message – there have rarely been so many ravens at her window anymore since she has left the Inquisition. Her mind is quick and fast at work – the medicines have cleared her head and chased the aches and pains away - and she is in her element. Her blood sings with the thrill of it all, her brain lays out puzzle pieces for her, shapes fit together as she knows they must. They _will_ be successful today, she is certain of it.

At the back of her mind, however, there is now a nagging worry. _Please, Maker, let Cassandra hold on to her determination – and her sanity. Maker, give her strength._ They both need their focus now more than ever – they cannot falter, let their emotions impede their clarity of thought. Their plans must be executed perfectly, in her mind the wheels of the clockwork turn.

When she finally leaves with Renette to deal with Berne, much has been set in motion. Celene has been informed of the threat – as has the city guard - and reinforcements will be there in time for them tonight. Cassandra remains in her quarters to welcome the Inquisitor once more and to hasten the discovery of Dorian's agent. 

***

“Greetings and Salutations, Your Perf- aaaaaaaaaah!” 

Cassandra cuts short Inquisitor Gilbert Trevelyan's exuberant entrance by forcefully helping him into the room and onto a chair. He is earlier today, good. It has paid off to make use of the time they gained due to her early waking.

She dismisses a startled Mila with a wave and then turns to Gilbert. “It is good to see you, my friend.” She glares at him, silencing his gasps of protest and grasps his arms firmly, holding him inplace. “There is little time. You need to listen and listen well. We need your help.” 

His wide eyes are injured indignation. “Yes, alright, alright! I will help! Ow!” 

Cassandra lets go of him, forcing herself to stay focused, drawing on what calm she can muster. 

“What's gotten into you?" His earnest indignation turns to mocking amusement in the blink of an eye. "I knew you were a tough cookie, Leliana, but you were never one to slap me around – hey, how's Cassandra doing?” Far from being intimidated he shoots her a conspiratorial wink. “Now, I am very happy for the both of you, but if our dear Seeker taught you that move I am going to have to object to her terrible influence on you.”

“Ugh.” Cassandra sits down opposite him with a groan. Keeping this short will be hard work. “I need you to contact Dorian,” she begins, “He also will need to hear what I have to say to you.”

Gilbert's eyes narrow. “Lucky for you, I always keep him close to my heart.” His tone is wistful, though his expression conveys wary curiosity as he reaches into his jacket to pull out the sending crystal Cassandra already knows is hidden there. 

It is like herding cats, Cassandra surmises once more, trying to keep a conversation with Gilbert Trevelyan and Dorian Pavus from veering off a predetermined path. Thankfully, however, they are also eager to stop a Tevinter plot against the Divine and eager to help their friends. 

Her head hurts, but Cassandra feels she has managed to speed up this conversation a little compared to the day before. 

“Fascinating!” Dorian exclaims again and he and Gilbert coo excitedly at the other's brilliance. 

Cassandra catches herself stifling a smile. It is good the Inquisitor has found this happiness.

“Well then,” Dorian concludes after all has been explained, “you seem to have things well under control. Let me give you some advice on how to greet my wayward countrymen when they arrive. I will, of course, send what help I can. As for my agent – I believe Gilbert knows what to do.” 

***

The arrests of Berne and his men has been efficiently managed. Renette and Leliana are a well-rehearsed team by now. They were very early – maybe too early – the number of captured men seems slightly smaller. She should have kept count! Leliana admonishes herself. Still, Berne is in their custody – as are his most notable lieutenants. They have done well. The guards stationed at the barracks should be able to pick off any stragglers late to arrive. 

As things stand she has ample time to prepare her trap for Luciole as well as making sure everything at the Grand Cathedral is going as planned – troops will be hidden at strategic points throughout the cathedral and its surroundings. Nothing should be left to chance. 

A runner brings news of Tevinter agents apprehended near the sacristy. Already? Leliana's brow wrinkles as her heart pounds. This was not a foreseen development. At the edges of the grand tapestry of her plan in her mind a seam comes undone. Should she go and see what intelligence can be learned from them? She does have the time. She is eager to mend the frayed seam that irritates her. Berne can wait and it is still early – a useful thing while she waits for Luciole to be caught in her trap. 

Leliana sends a message to Cassandra informing her of what has been accomplished. Another to Renette to let her know she will first talk to the apprehended Tevinters and then catch up with her agents to apprehend Luciole. They know how to flush them out even if she herself is not present to play the bait. 

Thus reassured Leliana hurries along familiar corridors and secret passageways to the foot of the Grand Cathedral. As she turns into the small corridor leading to a hidden entrance to the sacristy she is hit with a blast of magic. She is not hurt, but there has been a shift – she has felt a spell taking hold. What? She turns. There is none to be seen. 

Where are the guards? Should there not be a Knight Divine? She calls out – silence. Her hands fly to her throat. _What-?_ She sees movement out of the corner of her eye, though she hears no sound. A muffling spell then, she thinks as strong arms take a hold of her and pull a hood over her head. The acrid smell is familiar – No! She struggles, then stumbles as she feels her consciousness fade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * As am I.


	9. 9

Leliana is drowsy. Sounds of metal being struck reach her through fog that feels like cotton wool in her ears. Her lids are heavy and when she manages to open her eyes her view is that of moving shapes locked in a struggle. She feels drunk, weakened still by the drugs she inhaled, but the floor underneath her is still that of the hallway outside the sacristy. _What is going on?_ She pushes herself up to sit and knits her brows as she shuts her eyes firmly, hoping they might work again once she has composed herself. 

The clanging of metal rings louder and louder in her ears. There are shouts and groans. Blinking into the dim light of the corridor she sees a tall shape shielding her from her attackers. As her defender slams two assailants back against the wall with a powerful swing of her shield, Leliana notices a familiar shade of dark hair – a curse in Nevarran. _Cassandra? It cannot be_. 

Leliana struggles to compose herself. No, this is still Cassandra's body she is in. There is her own sword and dagger by her side. She draws the dagger shakily and thrusts it out in front of her – still unable to focus her mind. 

There is the sickly sound of a sword being plunged deeply into flesh as a shape tumbles to the ground and two more take off running. 

“Help!” Leliana's voice rings out loudly within her skull. She winces.

Her protector turns and approaches. Kneeling down before her is Helena Anaxas, the Nevarran Knight Divine. 

***

“What does she think she is doing?” Cassandra cannot control the furious tremble of her voice. 

First there was Leliana's note that arrived with her lunch – informing her matter-of-factly of her plans to interrogate already captured Tevinter agents – then, as she prepared herself for the inevitability of Leliana putting herself in danger yet again, playing the bait for this deplorable sorceress, Ritts had appeared informing her that Leliana was nowhere to be found and her agents were instructed to try to apprehend Luciole on their own. 

It is unlike Leliana to veer from a plan so firmly set in place. On the other hand, a tiny voice suggests at the back of her mind, it is very much like Leliana to act impulsively if she thought her choices might provide a short-cut to her desired solution. 

Still, it is not a good sign to find more Tevinter agents inside the Cathedral complex already. It is important they do not overlook important details in this scenario. Leliana needed to act. She might have done the same.

Cassandra is on her own. Gilbert Trevelyan left moments earlier to find Dorian's agent – having received the addresses of possible safe-houses and hiding spots from the Tevinter mage. 

“Have you told the Right Hand?” If she can count on one person to keep a clear head in all this, Renette is it. 

“She is being notified.” Ritts eyes her warily. 

“If Leliana has told you to go ahead as planned, I expect you to do so.” They cannot let Luciole slip away, even if Leliana's absence will make things more difficult. “However, I expect you to send someone to search for her – someone that can be trusted.” 

Ritts nods. “I will, Most Holy.” 

“You may go.” Cassandra dismisses the agent and swallows her curses until the door has closed behind her.

***

“Some of them ran as soon as I entered the corridor.” Knight Divine Anaxas' Nevarran drawl is thick, thicker than even Cassandra's was when Leliana first met her. 

Leliana drinks deeply of the water skin that is offered to her and feels the effects of the drug on her lessening. She must not have had as large a dose of it – thanks to the interruption of her would-be kidnappers. They must have been trailing her. 

“I had news the guards had apprehended Tevinter agents in the sacristy.” Leliana explains. 

“Agents? From Tevinter?” The Knight's stern face is rent softer by a look of confusion. “We have been on guard here all morning and there certainly were no intruders here – until-” She gestures down the corridor. 

Leliana feels a shiver, like iced lightning, run down her spine. _A new trap then_. She grits her teeth. 

“Knight Divine Vidal is pursuing those that first ran. I think their ring-leader is with them. I remained to deal with those that were holding you.” 

“My thanks.” Leliana stands slowly, testing the reliability of her limbs. “Their ring-leader, you said - could you describe them?” 

Helena Anaxas frowns again. “I did not get a good look, I am afraid. They wore a hooded cloak.”

“A woman?” Leliana prods, eyes narrowing.

“A figure more like a woman, yes.” 

Leliana curses. _There had been fewer apprehended in their earlier raid on the barracks_. Luciole must have had informants among them. How could she have been so careless to think this an unimportant detail? She readies herself to pick up the chase.“We cannot let them get away.”

“Pardon me, Seeker _Pentaghast_.” The knight's impressive aquiline nose wrinkles in consternation. “But you are hardly in the condition to give chase now.” 

“You will notify someone trustworthy, Lady Anaxas,” Leliana instructs her, willing Cassandra's body to stand still and strong, projecting what Nevarran noblesse she might.“I will pursue them.”

The Nevarran knight's mouth twists into a sneer. “How will you know where to go?”

Leliana takes a step closer, drawing herself up to Cassandra's full height. “You will tell me what you know, _Knight Divine_.” 

Helena Anaxas hesitates only a moment, refusing to break eye-contact she finally steps out of Leliana's way. “Into the crypt,” she says. 

Leliana grits her teeth. She remembers Luciole's hideout in the bowels of the Grand Cathedral. “I will know the way.” She pushes past the Knight Divine, one hand against the wall, and hopes Cassandra's body will continue its quick recovery from the drugs she inhaled. 

***

It is true then, their plan has been upset. Leliana's agents waited in vain. Cassandra wants to fling the message across the room. Wants to punch the walls in her frustration. In front of her the messenger keeps his head low, shuffling uneasily in place, sensing her pent up anger. 

He eventually offers, “Will you... have me carry a message back?” 

Cassandra is still too preoccupied with her thoughts. “No,” she begins automatically, then reconsiders. “Wait a moment.” If Luciole was not there – then where could she be? Renette keeps watch with the guards, but someone will need to find Leliana – and find Luciole. She wishes she could just tear off these void-forsaken, blessed garments, grab her sword and head out to find them – but where would she go? The conspirators' hideout. The place Leliana was held. “Tell Ritts to-” she begins, but is cut off by another runner barging through the still-open door. 

“Knight Divine Anaxas sends me, Most Holy!” He brandishes a note.

Cassandra grabs it quickly and scans its contents. It is written in the code of the Knights Divine – luckily, not only Leliana is privy to its key. _The Seeker attacked at the sacristy._ It says. _In pursuit of attackers in the catacombs. Help is needed. ___

____

____

Cassandra seethes. She was right then. “Help is needed in the sacristy. Tell Ritts to take Leli- my agents there!”

She cannot go – Divine Victoria cannot go, she knows, even though she feels she will jump out of this skin and hound down Luciole herself if Leliana should come to any harm. 

***

Leliana fights the spells of drowsiness that still make her grab for the walls to steady her much more often than she would like to admit. Her feet drag across the dusty floor as her steps slur every so often. To the void with them. She curses the men who drugged her again and again – a stubborn mantra to keep her going. She knows where they are. She remembers the way. Renette will remember, too – she reminds herself. I told her where it was. She hopes her Right Hand's memory holds up as well as her own. 

Every so often she halts, listens. Nothing but soft, diffuse noises – far away. Water drips somewhere above. The catacombs on this level are bathed in soft, cold light emanating from rune-crafted stones. Later, further below, closer to the conspirators hideout she might need a lantern. How could she forget?

Wait. She stops. These are footsteps – behind her! She twists around, ducks into shadows, her dagger at the ready. 

She recognizes the shape of Helena Anaxas as soon as she turns the corner. 

“I hope you brought a light.” Leliana whispers, stepping from the shadows. 

If the Knight Divine is at all startled by her sudden appearance she does not show it. Leliana makes a mental note to discover what the dour Nevarran's tells are. 

“Of course.” Only the slightest shift in tone indicates the knight's opinion of Leliana's actions. Her thin lips twitch impatiently. 

_She thinks me – Cassandra – rash and thoughtless. Well, I have certainly not proven her wrong, storming down here without a light – and half-drugged still._ Leliana admonishes herself. 

“I know where they are going,” she says. “I will lead the way, but I will need your help. I am unsteady still.”

The knight's eyes communicate haughty pity, but her voice is firm and clear as she agrees, “You will have it. Lead on.”

***

Cassandra is waiting. Waiting again! Pacing – it feels like she is running circles round the Divine's apartments. 

When she almost believes only the destruction of what remains of Leliana's nightstand will bring her some relief, there is knocking – pecking at the window.

She hurries to let in the bird, unfurls the message:

> _Bringing in the green one. Aren't you glad I found one of L's ravens? Hah, I hope it's one of hers! Making our way back now._

Even in letters – Cassandra grits her teeth – he even laughs in letters. 

She calls on Mila, tells her to send for an escort of the Knights Divine. She will see to preparations down at the Cathedral – as well as hopefully being useful after waiting around for so long. 

***

If Helena Anaxas assumes she is unfit to lead, she has not said so. Leliana struggles on – mercifully the fog in her brain is slowly replaced by a dull headache – but more clarity of thought. Her balance also improves. Thank the Maker for these mercies. 

They are not far into the unlit, forgotten bowels of the Chantry dungeons when they see a crumpled mass obstructing the way ahead. 

Her companion rushes forward, stifling a sound of distress. “Honore!” 

They are too late – the Knight Divine is dead. A bloody death – his throat has been cut. Leliana recognizes other marks across his throat as the woman next to her chokes with horror at the sight. 

“This looks like it has been done with a wire. We have to be careful.” Maker protect them from any traps. Though, she tells herself, it is just as likely someone lay in wait for him in the shadows. 

It only takes a moment – and a whispered prayer – before Helena Anaxas rises again, motioning her to continue. “They will pay.” 

***

Cassandra thanks the Maker for Renette d'Arnee – and for Leliana's agents who have already managed to set so much in motion. They are evidently following Leliana's plan. She sees notes exchanged, groups of knights and guards taking orders and disappearing again to their postings. The amount of people occupied and following their orders with practiced precision calms her. 

It was impossible to remain in the Divine's apartments, knowing all this was happening – waiting for news of Leliana being relayed to her messenger by messenger.

She waits near the door until Renette notices she is there and then approaches her. “Where is L-”

“-the Seeker?” Renette cuts her off, glancing over her shoulder where another group of guards has appeared behind her. “In pursuit of her attackers below the Grand Cathedral. Helena Anaxas followed her soon after – and I have sent five more knights to follow them.”

“Only five?” 

Renette gives her a cautioning look. “Most Holy, we must keep our wits about us. They will be seven – I do not believe they will be vastly outnumbered.”

No, Cassandra remembers, Luciole's inner circle was small, considering the amount of men they encountered with Berne. Still, they might have the advantage in the dark. She imagines sharp knives, lying in wait – hands reaching out from the shadows to grab Leliana. In her mind she sees Leliana briefly, as she was – then her mind supplies the image of herself stumbling through the dark tunnels of the catacombs. Leliana will have her strength to make use of. 

She is shaken out of her imaginings by the firm touch of Renette d'Arnee's armored hand on her forearm. 

“I know you worry – but it does not help. You should not remain here much longer. We will soon finish our preparations.” 

She knows Renette is right. The Divine has no place in the midst of the battle they are all preparing for. Cassandra cannot help but linger a while, hoping to be of help in the midst of all this.

***

Leliana shivers with sweat turned cold in the stale stillness of the catacomb air. They try to avoid making too much noise, but knights as they are they are far from the soundless assassins Leliana would prefer. 

They are close now to the old cells she is all too intimately familiar with after her first encounter with Luciole's band of conspirators. They will know they are coming – Leliana knows that she might pray for a distraction, but there will be none. It is only them down here. 

Moving carefully by the dim light of Helena Anaxas' lantern they scan the corridor for signs of traps. When Leliana knows they are about to turn into the tunnel that leads to Luciole's hideout, the hair on the back of her neck stands on end. Her whole body shivers and she cannot shake the sensation of something close to them thrumming with magic. Hold. She signals to the Knight Divine as they stand to muster the tunnel. 

Leliana squints in the dim light as the knight thrusts her arm with the lantern forward. There! The stones of the floor shimmer with icy crystals. Leliana indicates this to her companion, who nods, then frowns at the ice mines they have discovered. 

“Assist me in dispelling them.” Helena Anaxas mouths to her. 

Leliana has little time to wonder if she can. She watches the Knight Divine execute a runic pattern with the hilt of her sword – she has watched Cassandra do the same many times. 

It cannot hurt to try, she decides as she sees irritation at her hesitation flash on the Nevarran knight's face. She mimics the knight's stance and closes her eyes as she draws the glyph with the hilt of her sword. Nothing. 

She tries again, drawing on the power she has felt beginning to stir within her the closer they have come to Luciole's hideout. She must have many defensive enchantments and spells in place, Leliana realizes as she feels herself connecting with the power rising to meet her within Cassandra's body and with a jolt feels the dispel leave her like harshly expelled breath. Ice cracks and shatters in the tunnel as they destroy mine after mine.

If their steps have not given them away until then, this is sure to draw the attention of the women and men they have been chasing.

“Rush them!” Helena Anaxas orders and storms off into the tunnel, shield angled upwards to guide spells and missiles away from her. 

Leliana curses – they cannot be sure what lies ahead. The Knight Divine clearly believes their best shot is to use their strength and brute force to their advantage against physically weaker opponents. Well, Leliana cannot say for certain this approach is wrong. She takes off into the tunnel after her. 

Yells and shouts erupt before Leliana reaches the hall, hewn from the rock below the Grand Cathedral, that marks the entrance to this ancient prison. She sees a dark form flung back and onto the ground by the grand shield of the Knight Divine. All the shapes are outlined in the flickering light of the torches that adorn the walls of the hall. The impression is that of many more assailants as even their multi-formed shadows jump into the fray. 

There! Leliana whirls to her left just in time to strike at a rogue throwing herself at her, daggers drawn. She does not have a shield – but fights back wielding both Cassandra's sword and her own dagger. The sword is long – an advantage as she slices at the quick shadow to her right. She feels the impact of her blade on hide armor which gives and is sliced through as her attacker doubles over with a muffled scream. 

It has been some time since she has been in the midst of a battle, but her senses feel heightened as the rush of the fight heats her blood. She reacts, gives in to the sense-memory of Cassandra's body – feels it mix with her own instincts as she dips and ducks, parries blows and seeks for openings, taking down attacker after attacker until a few stragglers flee into the archway that leads to the cells where she was held. In the hall only herself and Helena Anaxas remain standing. At their feet lie the dead and injured. Leliana feels each beat of Cassandra's heart. Strange, to be so close yet so far apart. She is ripped from her musings by the sickly sound of Helena Anaxas' blade dispatching those left alive. 

After that the hall is silent. Leliana scans the forms on the ground for that of Luciole – no, she was not here. Her companion steps over the corpses, preparing her pursuit of those that got away. 

Helena gets just within reach of the other side of the hall and Leliana is about to follow her, when she feels that chill rising through her once more. This time, however, it is stronger. She cannot fight the encroaching dread and shivers that creep through her. More magic, all the senses of Cassandra's body tell her.

“Wait!” she calls out – too late. Tendrils of magic unfurl from the floor, rising as if from hairline fissures in the rock. As quickly as they have shot up they grab onto Helena Anaxas, holding her in place. 

_Merde_. Leliana is about to attempt to dispel the magic when the feeling of something rising within her – borne from dread but filling her with something akin to fire to combat the chill – stops her, makes her try to pinpoint what it is that she is feeling. There is movement behind her – around her. Is her mind playing tricks on her? The shadows move again, rising from the floor. No! She realizes with a jolt, not just the shadows, but the fallen bodies of Luciole's conspirators rise as if drawn up by invisible strings. Puppets to an unseen puppet master. 

The power within her – within Cassandra's body - feels close to spilling out of her. Leliana stands her ground, gripping the hilts of her weapons as the undead rise to form a circle around her. 

“Welcome, Seeker.” The voice echoing within the archway is familiar.

Leliana takes a deep breath. “Show yourself, Luciole.” 

“Oh, does my reputation precede me?” A hooded figure steps from the shadows.

Luciole attempts to sound nonchalant, Leliana thinks, but the brittleness of her voice speaks of some desperation and anger. 

“This will all end soon enough.” Luciole gestures towards Leliana and the undead. “But I was wondering, Seeker Pentaghast, how did you come to know my name?” 

Leliana feels the magic radiating from the lithe woman in front of her – feels the wave of her hand like a finger touching a cord within her. Her brain frantically occupied in the search for a solution to her predicament Leliana suddenly knows what has been happening to her – to this body. _Save me, Maker!_ She closes her eyes and concentrates on bending to her will the power that has filled her to the brim in these last few minutes. _Tell me what to do?_ She asks Cassandra's body, hoping she is right. 

Nothing happens at first. Then Luciole's voice, repeating her question, begins to fade as the power thrums in her ears – she feels her physical body weaken and sinks to her knees, even as the power reaches the peak of its potential. _Go!_ She wills it. 

Everything is white light and needles and blades as she feels herself torn apart with the power rushing out of her. 

***

Cassandra has barely begun the ascent of the grand staircase leading to the tower that houses the Divine's apartments when hurried steps approach behind her. Her guards turn, weapons at the ready, but Cassandra pushes past them as soon as she realizes the approaching figures are that of Gilbert Trevelyan and a green-garbed young man, whose frantic features speak of those of a fish thoroughly out of water.

“Hey-o!” The Inquisitor's eyes widen at the swords turned upon him. “You wouldn't want to hurt the Herald of Andraste, now, would you?”

Cassandra motions her assent and the guards relax their stance and step back. There is an alcove on the landing above them and Cassandra ushers them there, while the Divine's guards remain at a distance. 

“What have you found?” Cassandra demands impatiently.

“Well, I am to be congratulated, do you not think?” Gilbert beams at her – then at his Tevene companion. “I have found our man in practically no time at all!”

Cassandra bites her lip. “That is fortunate for all of us,” she allows. 

“I was not trying to hide, really,” the young man stammers, “I was just not sure what to do.”

“You see,” Gilbert jumps in to explain, “he also is caught in the spell.”

“I... I am not sure what I did wrong. I never intended to cast this spell. I have studied time magic a little, of course, Master Tavus is very dedicated to studying its uses, but he always has discouraged me from tying it myself. He has seen it do much damage in the wrong hands. Not that mine would be the wrong... I am just not very experienced, you see.”

Cassandra puts up her hand, intending to stop the young man's ramblings, but he only gasps for air briefly before continuing.

“Master Tavus sent me to trail these men – he had heard them talking of a plot to overthrow your Div- you. And then I was really there, only they were not... and then they were there and then there were so many, and I saw the man with the dagger, and I knew he was watching you, and then... I thought I had failed, I needed to try again. I thought if I... If I restarted the day I could do better and then... I realized what I had done. I could not stop it. I-” the young man's stammering confession is halted by a sob.

 _Shit_. Cassandra thinks. 

“There, there,” Gilbert puts a finely-gloved hand upon the young man's shaking shoulder. ”I am here now to help you.”

Unable and unwilling to think of something soothing to say, Cassandra opts for simply asking the young man's name.

“Vertis Brann.” He pulls himself together. “You have my sincerest apologies and... and I promise to do whatever I can to right this.” 

“Good.” Cassandra says, trying to mollify her expression, which is difficult as her eyes keep darting to Trevelyan, who is trying to relate something to her with impossible grimaces. “Something you wanted to say, Inquisitor?”

“Ah,” he smiles and steps forward, chest puffed with pride, “fortunately my dear Dorian has instructed me in the art of controlling time with magic for some time now - and now that we a certain of the source of it all, well, I believe together we should be able to cast a counterspell or find a means to counter the magic at play here. It all depends on the right moment, of course. But I am confident we have the means! Will you lead us to the spot where it happened so we can make our preparations?”

Cassandra hopes Trevelyan's confidence is warranted. It is so difficult to tell with this man, who has improvised his way through much of his time with the Inquisition. _With success_ , she reminds herself. _Maker, watch over us._ She is happy, however, for the chance to return to the Grand Cathedral. _Maybe I can be useful after all_. 

***

Iron and dust. Leliana coughs, her throat is dry. It takes a huge effort to pick herself up, to sit, to make sense of what she is seeing – remember what has happened here. Her body prickles with pins and needles that intensify their sting, digging into her muscles when she moves.

Slowly, very slowly some strength returns to her body, though every movement feels stiff, hard-won and painful. Around her are the corpses, now dead again, further away lie the crumpled forms of Helena Anaxas and Luciole. 

Leliana's mind begins to clear, the stinging ache fades and she fights Cassandra's exhausted body – willing it to move for her as she crawls over to the two women. Has she killed them? No, she finds, they are breathing still. Knocked out then – stunned by the Seekers mysterious powers that grip and attack where lyrium can be found. 

She rips threads of cloth and unties leather laces, looting the fallen bodies for means of tying up Luciole. She cannot leave her here unrestrained. When will they wake again? She cannot say. 

Leliana is too weak to move Helena Anaxas. She cannot wait for her. With some luck she will be able to reach help - if not on the way, then once she has made her way out of this place. She has done it before, after all.

***

Within the Grand Cathedral everything looks ready. There is no congregation today, but soldiers, waiting for the appearance of Tevinter insurgents. Cassandra watches them uneasily. She stands, where she has stood before, facing the pews and the grandiose vaulted ceilings. Hidden behind the Divine's throne the Inquisitor and Vertis Brann wait, watching over their design of glyphs surrounding her, hoping for their counterspell to take effect. 

To her right, Renette d'Arnee scans the vast Cathedral with her. Cassandra feels a little better knowing her – Leliana's – Right Hand is at her side. 

“On my signal,” Trevelyan whispers, ”you all need to be in the circle!”

“What if Le- what if we are not all there?” Cassandra speaks low, so low she hopes only those closest to her can hear.

“I am not sure the spell will work then.” Vertis admits. “Or it might – but I am not sure if it would affect the Seeker. At worst, I suppose she could remain here.”

Cassandra swears under her breath. “If she is not here in time I will not stay in this circle. I am not leaving without her.” Her voice breaks. She will live in this hell rather than leave Leliana behind. 

“There are search parties looking for her – I have made sure to send trustworthy guards, too.” Renette tries to reassure them, but Cassandra can hear the tension in the knight's voice as well.

Then several things happen very quickly. A runner appears, giving a message to Renette, who smiles and tells her Leliana has been found and is being brought back, figures with pointed, Tevene hoods materialize in clouds of smoke all throughout the Grand Cathedral, magic is cast, guards rush forward, the Knights Divine close ranks and cast spells to subdue what magic is directed at her. She hears an angry scream as a man is shot down from a lofty perch – his daggers clatter as they hit the statues of blessed mothers below.

“Ready?!” The Inquisitor screams as Cassandra feels the tug of familiar magic – she tenses, ready to wrest herself from its grasp when suddenly Renette bends down, grasping the arm of an unseen figure below the chancel they are on. When she is borne up, the battered figure is her own – Leliana! Cassandra is not sure if she has called out loud but time seems to slow as Renette and Leliana rush towards her, they all tumble to the ground and Cassandra sees Virtus Brann appear beside her as the sigils on the floor burn with increasing intensity and the tug of the green, misty magic on her lessens until it ceases. 

Gilbert Trevelyan crows with triumph behind her. “What luck, Virtus! We have done it!”

 _Is it true?_ Cassandra is frozen in disbelief. Beside her, Leliana coughs, ashen-faced. 

Renette is the first to get up. “Stay behind me!” She orders, drawing herself up to full height to act as their shield as the fight in the Grand Cathedral begins in earnest.


	10. 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for the thrilling conclusion...

Relief is overwhelming and raw, cuts through the numbness Leliana feels, too exhausted to take in more than the fact of fighting in the Grand Cathedral. Cassandra is there at her side, steadying her. There is Gilbert Trevelyan, too, and another mage – casting barrier upon shimmering barrier that thrum with strong magical energy all around them and shield them from whatever is thrown their way. 

There is Renette d'Arnee, herself a barrier. Leliana hears the knight's battle cries and the impact of her shield as she throws back attackers that threaten to climb the steps to the altar. 

Leliana cannot see what destruction is really wrought in the Grand Cathedral – in this sometimes holy place she has sought to make one of true peace and understanding between the peoples of Thedas. Now it is a battlefield. 

Then it is all over. Silence settles like fog over those fallen and obscures those still standing. 

While the Knights Divine round up what Tevinters remain alive, Leliana is borne up and away by Renette and Cassandra. She is tired, so very tired. 

***

Cassandra steadies her precious charge. Leads the heavy, armored body that houses her love through the Divine's apartments and away from Renette. A healer will appear shortly but for now they have a moment alone. 

The armor is familiar. Undone with practiced ease. Cassandra gentles off sticky greaves, drenched in blood and sweat, leathers burned and hanging in shreds, vambraces and guards. Underneath the armor her body is bruised but whole. Leliana is drained, almost to giving in to the oblivion of sleep, but Cassandra knows the dangers of succumbing too quickly to sleep post battle. 

“Wait for the healers, love,” she whispers, holding Leliana close, tracing the body she knows so well for any sign of serious but hidden injury. The head is always what is most unpredictable. Leliana could be faint from the exertion of her battles in the catacombs, but equally likely is a serious concussion – or other injury from a fateful blow. 

Cassandra knows her body takes a beating well. She has rarely allowed herself these worries when it was her inside it. Has Leliana ever seen her like this? They often shared close quarters while working together as Hands of the previous Divine, Justinia. They have never been ones to be overly shy about their bodies. Did Leliana ever watch her then? Taken stock of this reliable, powerful, battle-worn body Cassandra feels she has taken for granted until now? Watched Cassandra stitch herself up, bull-headedly fighting through the pain, when there were no healers around? Was Leliana worried then?

On the bed, without the armor, even this body seems unbearably vulnerable. Cassandra quickly fetches cold water and tinctures to apply to the bruising. The cool might have the added benefit of keeping Leliana awake a little longer. She makes Leliana drink and tenderly cleans blood and dirt from her face and neck. 

When the startled-looking healers finally appear, Cassandra realizes she is shaking. It only stops when she watches their work, watches bruises fading and Leliana beginning to breathe more easily. _Thank the Maker!_

Later, she slips into bed next to Leliana, who stirs, barely conscious, and turns towards her. Her head rests on Cassandra's shoulder and Cassandra shifts close as she can and draws the blankets up around them. 

***

Leliana's head aches. She longs to drift back to sleep, but the persistent throb of the pain wakes her. Is it her pulse she hears? No, there is knocking, knocking – each knock makes her brow furrow, punctuates the throb of her pain. _The ravens_. 

_No, not again._ Memories rush back to her. _We stopped this, didn't we?_ This cannot be.

There is movement beside her. Cassandra! She starts awake fully with the impulse to sit up – but instead only whimpers as all of her muscles cramp and ache, pins and needles shoot through her, preventing her attempts at movement. 

“Cassandra?” Leliana only manages a hoarse whisper. “Cassandra! Wake up!”

There are footfalls outside her bedroom door and heavy things are being set down outside her room. No, no...

“No!” Leliana's scream is a choked whimper. “Cassandra!” 

Beside her the other sleeper startles awake. “What?” Confusion sits on her mirror image's pale face. Red hair askew and tousled is being pushed out of sleep-small eyes. “Leliana, are you in pain?”

Leliana does not answer but stares at Cassandra – words do not come. 

Cassandra's brow furrows. “The healers assured me they did all they could to help you last night. They treated your injuries. You should not feel-”

"I used your powers, Cassandra.” _Is this the price she pays?_

“What?” Cassandra's face falls and eyes widen with shock. “How did you-?” A look of dawning understanding. “Oh.”

Leliana tries to lie as still as she can, avoids upsetting the ache within. “Is this normal?” 

Cassandra smiles crookedly, apologetically, kindly. “For a novice, yes.” She gets up carefully so as not to jostle Leliana. “You might need some time for it to wear off – but I could help you. Guide you through a meditation that might allow you to recover more quickly.” 

“Please.” Leliana closes her eyes. 

There is a knock on the door. They both flinch at the sound. 

“Most Holy?” 

Mila's voice makes Leliana flinch again. “We did succeed yesterday, didn't we? I did not dream it?”

“We did.” Cassandra runs her finger over Leliana's resting hand, the most careful of reassuring caresses and Leliana's heart swells.

“Go away!” Cassandra shouts in the direction of the door.

Another knock. “I am sorry, Most Holy but the Empress-” 

“-can wait! Leave us! We will not answer to her – send my Right Hand if the matter is truly important!” 

Cassandra is not even trying to hide her Nevarran inflections anymore. Leliana would laugh, but knows she would pay for it dearly. _I can wait a little, too._

They wait in silence as they listen to Mila retreat and the grand apartment door to fall shut behind her. 

Leliana stays still as she follows Cassandra's voice in prayer, within her body a now familiar power stirs and with Cassandra's guidance is slowly soothed.

***

Luciole's face is impassive as they enter the cell where she is held. Her pale, beautiful skin is scratched and her clothes dirty – bound to a chair there is little that her posture can give away, but she is alive and they will make her talk. Behind Luciole two Knights Divine stand ready. 

There is no rush to deal with Berne – and between Celene's troops, the city guard, the Knights Divine and Renette, Cassandra knows the aftermath of this failed coup is in good hands. 

Cassandra stands in the shadows, allowing Leliana to lead what interrogation will follow. 

“You may wonder why I would seek to speak with you so soon after your failed plot,” Leliana begins. 

Leliana draws up another chair and sits opposite their prisoner while Cassandra sees ripples in Luciole's formerly impassive face. Yes, Luciole is wondering, indeed. 

“How did we learn of your plans? How did we know where you were hiding? It has to be vexing to fail when you thought your plan was working so well. 

“ _My_ plan.” Luciole bites out the words at her in disgust. 

“Oh, yes.” Leliana pauses. “How silly of me – it was Berne's plan, was it not? You had something much more devious in mind.”

Luciole stares at Leliana now, holds her gaze. “And what would you know of it, Seeker?”

“I was not even here – that is what you believe, yes? That is what you think? What would this stubborn knight know of my clever plans?” Leliana's voice teases.

Luciole does not respond – only watches Leliana watch her in turn. 

“Have you not wondered how I knew your name, _Luciole_?” Leliana savors the sound of that name. “You told me yourself.”

The mage flinches, her features betraying disbelief. 

“You told me of your plan, too, pretty ladybird – to dispose of the Divine.”

A look of defiance. “I had no such plans.”

Leliana's voice is icy. “You did.” 

“I am curious what a washed up Seeker would think they might have been?” 

Luciole is biting and Cassandra knows to restrain herself, to trust Leliana's abilities to glean truth from those she interrogates, though anger rustles within the pit of her stomach.

“Ah, well – plans that would not only have removed the Divine without anyone being the wiser, but also put yourself in that same place of power. What a shame that Berne did not see the genius in your plan. He belittled your efforts, did he not? So like a templar to mistrust you – when you had so carefully arranged your gambit?”

Luciole's look of confident defiance cracks. Cassandra knows already that Leliana will be able to produce evidence enough – but it is gratifying all the same to watch. 

“How did you find it, I wonder – or did you enchant it yourself?”

Luciole is silent.

“Such a beautiful work of art.” Leliana's voice is dripping with honeyed poison. “And a supposedly an unknown treasure hidden by Divine Rosamund. Scandalous!” 

“How-?” 

Cassandra flinches as Luciole suddenly strains against her bonds, looking ready to strike at Leliana. 

“As I said – you told me yourself.” Leliana does not flinch, waves her hand dismissively. “We were lucky, you see, in that you and Berne were not the only ones engaged in secret missions that day.” 

“I do not understand.”

“Involving Tevinter – I wonder, was this your plan or Berne's? No matter,” Leliana continues quickly, “I know you intended to take the Divine's throne in her very own body. I assume you would have cared little for what happened to the woman that inherited your own in the bargain.”

Luciole's beautiful features are disfigured by rage. “You intend to try me for a crime I never committed?! I dispute my involvement with what plump coup failed last night – it was Berne who sought to re-establish the Templar Order. It was his idea to involve Tevinter – what better way to ensure the people would be reminded of the need for a standing army of templars to defend them!” Luciole spits with rage. “He used me when he thought my help necessary to his goal, but he threw me aside as soon as my plan had failed. Go to him! I have done no damage to you!”

Leliana's laugh is cruel. “Apart from your attempt to kidnap me? How quickly you forget.”

Luciole pauses. Fuming in her restraints. “We had to act quickly after you took Berne out of the equation. We needed leverage. You caught me. Throw me into your prisons and be done with it. Why do you torment me? What do you want of me now? ”

“To undo what damage you have done.” Leliana sighs. “You see, you may not have succeeded in doing what you set out to do – but you have managed to create a cursed relic capable of what you intended it to do.”

“The statue?” Luciole's eyes narrow. “It worked?”

“Clearly not as you intended.”

The woman gives a startled, bitter laugh. “Then it was set off after all? That-” she indicates Cassandra in the shadows “- is not the Divine?”

“It is not.” Leliana allows.

Luciole's face is hungry, triumphant. “Tell me, how was it activated?”

“It is clear you do not know.” Leliana stands. “A shame, when I was going to offer you leniency in exchange for your cooperation in undoing the curse.” Leliana addresses the knights that stand guard behind the prisoner. “She will be executed with the other conspirators.”

Cassandra holds her breath while her heartbeat churns in her ears. She is almost certain that Leliana is bluffing, but hopes that Luciole will at least also doubt her interrogator's resolve. 

“Wait!” Luciole's eyes widen. “I can help!”

“Can you?” Leliana turns back to her. “Tell us everything you know – and we will spare your life.”

Luciole hesitates, eyes frantic. 

“Even if I cannot give you your freedom – will it not be gratifying to see that oaf Berne hang? I will allow you that.”

Luciole leans forward in her restraints, emerald eyes ablaze with interest – and hatred. “You will?”

“I promise.” 

Lucile nods grim agreement. “I spent months hunting down the statuette. I had seen drawings of it in some of the more trustworthy writing about Divine Rosamund. Much of what is said about her is pure fantasy, of course – scandal for the masses. This did not stop a young, gifted artist from attempting to ingratiate himself with this erotic depiction of Rosamund and one of her rumored lovers, however. One of the most skillful mages of the day helped him to find the craftsman to enchant it. It would allow them to truly know each other – allow each other to know the truest intimacy through the experience of moving between bodies. A romantic story – if you believe some of those who tell it. I knew if for what it really was – an attempt on her power. Would you risk, being Divine, being replaced by another? I knew my source was trustworthy. I tracked down the relic – hidden in a museum of curiosities. I felt it still held power – and I was assured it still did by someone whose expertise I cannot fault. The sources were clear, its magic would work when touched by both the Divine and whoever she sought to change places with, whoever sought to know her in that way. I made sure I touched it when the Divine did, but...” Luciole shakes her head.

“Clearly the Divine did not 'seek to know you'.” Cassandra cannot stop herself from interrupting. This is ridiculous. She folds her arms with indignation, holding her anger close to her core. 

Luciole's head lifts as she looks in her direction. “Who are you?” 

“I am afraid,” Leliana confesses, “that your erotic relic worked very well indeed when put to what I assume was its intended use.”

It takes a moment to sink in – then Luciole's mouth twists into an ugly smile. “I had heard the rumors about the Divine and her Seeker.” 

“This-” Leliana begins, but is interrupted by Cassandra, who charges forward to grab Luciole's arm, forcefully bringing her up to face her. 

Her rage is impossible to subdue. “You _will_ tell us how to reverse this curse!” She will make Luciole talk – the impulse is to strike, and strike again, but Leliana's hand on her shoulder brings her to her senses. She withdraws her hand and Luciole backs away, eyes alight with dogged triumph. 

“Well, as you know I clearly was wrong about my assumptions as to its uses. You seem to have done better. I would suggest you simply try doing what you did before to activate its power.” Luciole laughs, first quietly then with cruel abandon.

 _No._ Cassandra feels like she has been scalded. _No._

The impulse to flee is too strong to resist. She will not spend a moment longer in the presence of this woman. 

Laughter follows her, even in the deserted hallways of the Chantry's prison. 

***

Leliana has not seen Cassandra all day. She cannot fault her for needing her privacy – but she cannot help but worry still. Even though they have succeeded in restoring order at the Grand Cathedral this has taught her that she cannot trust she will ever be entirely secure. In the afternoon a runner came with news the Divine had been seen in the practice yards. _Good._ If Cassandra needs to work something out – she is more likely to do it sword in hand than any other way. 

It is dark now and Cassandra has not returned to her. Leliana knows when she is being avoided. Outside the crows begin to retreat to their tower, the world begins to feel more quiet. 

Leliana sighs. The prospect of making love to Cassandra like this does not repulse her or give her pause. It will be strange, certainly, but she allows herself to think now of the ways in which she could give her love pleasure – knowing so well what her own body likes. If only – if only she could be sure that Cassandra would not despise her – would not find the very idea of such an encounter as upsetting as she evidently does. 

In her office her correspondence has been dealt with, Leliana has kept herself busy, has tried to do as many of her duties as she could without having to appear in public. If she can spare Cassandra at least the burden of having to act as the Divine any more than she absolutely has to she will do it. Her agents have been instructed to keep anyone at bay – to give Cassandra a wide berth – but also to not allow anyone but herself or her friends to approach her. 

_Maker, help me._ Leliana stops herself, giddy with the impropriety of the prayer she almost sent to the Maker. _Please understand._ She begins instead. 

When Leliana feels almost overwhelmed with tiredness and there is still no sign of Cassandra she throws on a coat and heads down to the training yards. She finds Rook standing guard outside the stables, the place deserted but for her agents. Rook's shoulders fall when he sees her and he indicated the door of the stables with a shake of his head. 

Inside Leliana does not see Cassandra at first until there is a snort from a corner and she sees a leather-armored woman, head in hands, rough gauntlets in wild red hair. “Cassandra?” she says simply, crouching down next to Cassandra, but keeping her distance still. 

Cassandra raises her head and looks at her bleary-eyed and a little dazed. 

Leliana offers her hand. “Come inside, love. Come with me.” 

Cassandra heaves a sigh that turns into a yawn and then grasps her hand, letting herself pulled up and led out into the night. 

Rook cannot be seen anymore, but Leliana trusts him to clear their path, should the need be. Cassandra follows her, heavy-footed and barely awake. 

In her apartments Cassandra remains standing forlornly until Leliana pushes her into her washroom. “You'll feel better,” she advises. 

A short while later Cassandra re-emerges, wet-haired and robe askew. 

_Well, at least she is out of those leathers._

“Leliana?” The voice is rough and a little plaintive. “I will – I cannot do this now – but I will.”

“I will not do anything you do not want me to, Cassandra – and I would not want you to feel like you have to-”

“I know!” Cassandra groans with frustration. “This woman! If she had not... I cannot talk about this now.”

“We both need sleep.” Leliana watches her love worriedly. “Will you come to bed with me – to sleep?”

Cassandra nods and follows her into the bedroom. 

There is comfort still in each others' presence. Cassandra's head on her shoulder is the last thing Leliana is aware of before she falls asleep. 

***

Cassandra studies the sleeping woman beside her carefully. In sleep her features soften and change in ways that make her own face feel alien to her. She has watched Leliana animate it throughout the previous days – _how many?_ – and it had not been her own. A marked face, harsh with scars that could not be healed that she has sometimes worn with pride. Signs of age have begun to appear, lines along the eyes, the mouth, darker patches of skin that never fully went away after months spent in the sun-beaten deserts in the west. Not a pretty face, but one that could command respect, one that she has heard described as “striking” even “handsome,” but not a face the poets would sing about. Not that that fact has ever bothered her. 

She lets herself fall back down into the pillows. Her arms are sore with the familiar ache one pays for overdoing it in the practice yard. It is an ache she understands and welcomes, it has been a companion to her throughout the years. The other ache she feels is one she thought she had overcome – a weight on her heart, fear of allowing herself to admit to what she is feeling, what she desires. She groans. Why does it always have to be difficult. _Why this?_

Cassandra cannot help but wonder about Leliana's body. Refuses to fight against it anymore, slips one hand into her robe to cup a breast she has made love to many times – then stops, her conscience stirring once again. She groans and rolls over, drawing blankets tightly around herself, trying to drown the sensation of tingling desire that has begun to stir. 

“Cassandra?” 

Cassandra curses her impulses – now she has woken Leliana. “I'm awake.” 

Leliana siddles up to her, gathers her up in a strong embrace. “Good morning, my love.” 

“Don't tease.”

Leliana laughs into her hair. 

Cassandra wishes it would not feel so good. _Shit._

“I will bring you breakfast.” Leliana announces and before Cassandra can reply is gone – out of their bed – out of the room.

Cassandra only groans and draws the blankets tighter. 

She must have drifted back to sleep because the next thing she knows is that a tray is being set on the much-maltreated nightstand and the smell of fresh apples and Leliana's favourite tea fill the room. 

Cassandra sits up and accepts the cup of tea she is handed. It is too hot to drink and she sits in silence with Leliana perched on the bed beside her until it becomes bearable. 

“Nobody will disturb us today,” Leliana says almost too lightly. “I have left instructions.”

Cassandra drinks deeply of her tea, savoring the sensation more than the taste – although, she has to admit she finds the spices more palatable with Leliana's... palate. 

“Is that amusing?” Leliana's tone is surprised teasing. 

Cassandra shakes her head and watches herself sip carefully from her mug. Sees her over-large hands daintily holding Leliana's expensive china, drinking like Leliana does. She finishes her own tea and puts the cup back on its tray. “I will not miss this.” She gesticulates at the spectacle before her. “It is unnerving.”

“Mmmh,” Leliana hums in what Cassandra guesses is agreement, “though I have to say I have enjoyed having had the opportunity to be Cassandra Pentaghast.”

“You have always been a better actress than me.” Cassandra shakes her head.

“Oh, I think you acquitted yourself very admirably,” Leliana protests. “I think everyone was quite taken in.”

Cassandra huffs.”I doubt I could keep this going any longer and not make everyone wonder about the state of the Divine's head.” 

“Well, you should not have to. Pass me an apple?”

Leliana hands her a cup in exchange and Cassandra startles at the brush of her fingers. “I-” she begins. _This is impossible!_ She closes her eyes and wills herself to think of Leliana – only Leliana. 

“Cassandra?” 

Cassandra can feel the heat of Leliana's leg where it almost touches hers. The ghost of her touch still lingers on her hand. _Do it._ She trusts the impulse to carry her forward into Leliana's arms, steadies herself clumsily – kisses first chin, then cheek, then lips. The taste is familiar, is of the spiced tea that Leliana drinks – is of _them_. Cassandra feels tension leave her as she clings to Leliana, feels her respond and relax. 

“I have thought of touching you.” Cassandra admits, heat rising at the back of her neck. “Touching – myself. Your body.” 

“Well, you have touched it often enough before – though not for a while in these past months.” 

“Leliana.” Cassandra growls half-heartedly, fondly exasperated. Eyes still firmly closed. 

“You have my permission.” Leliana kisses her cheek. “Do I have yours?”

Cassandra holds her breath as she feels Leliana's on her neck. Her mind fills with images of Leliana she has fought against in the past few days. “Of course,” she says, exhaling. 

Leliana guides her hand back to her breast – then loosens the ties of Cassandra's robe, letting it fall open. Cassandra shivers as she feels cool air, shivers with the touch of her fingers on skin as she brushes over sensitive nipples. In her mind she knows Leliana's body well. Dashes of freckles around rose-petal skin. _So beautiful._ Feather-light her touches make her long for more – more of the way the circles she draws around her breasts tingle. When the light touches become too intense to bear she pinches herself and stifles a moan, self-conscious again of what she is doing. 

She hears Leliana's rhythmic breathing – feels her closeness still – but she is happy for the silence in which Leliana is watching her. She lies back down, stretches, runs hands all over her borrowed body, testing the sensations she feels – lingers on her throat, less sensitive than her own – shoulders, is drawn again to soft breasts – traces scars across her abdomen whose ridges she can read like fine maps of rivers flowing down to the apex of Leliana's thighs. These scars are sensitive, but not as much as some of her own – the touch is pleasurable still - she has worried sometimes when touching Leliana.

When Cassandra has gathered enough courage and the urge to touch more, touch more intimately still, becomes overbearing she slips her hand between her legs, finding soft hair, wetness – needing to do more but suddenly hesitant again. She feels warm, too warm, and icy-hot with longing and shame. She stops, breathing heavily, hands trembling. 

“Leliana?” 

A rough hand gently finds hers, guides it down, applies pressure – so. Cassandra gasps. She knows – and yet this is new – a revelation of sensations teased out by strokes and circles. She allows herself to be guided, allows Leliana's touch to dictate her pace. 

Then it is no longer enough. “Kiss me,” she demands. 

Their contact is broken as Leliana positions herself over Cassandra, bends down to kiss her. Cassandra responds hungrily, finding familiarity in strangeness. Different lips, but Leliana's kisses. Teasing, tender – then deep, urgent. 

The space between them closes as Leliana sinks down onto her more with each kiss, moves skillfully, slowly. Cassandra recognizes the moves with some amusement, surprises herself when she laughs into Leliana's kiss. 

Where Cassandra herself longs for deft touches, passion in power, she finds Leliana's body responsive to even the smallest caress. She is swept along the current of pleasure by hands that know where to linger, know how to eke out waves of desire. 

The weight on top of her feels different, heavier but good. Cassandra wills herself to not be taken out of this moment by analyzing too closely what she is feeling. Thankfully Leliana chooses this moment to lift her body so she can slip her hand between Cassandra's legs again. 

Cassandra bucks into the touch impatiently, chasing the release she can feel building inside her – but her movements are wrong, they do not bring the feelings she is chasing. 

Leliana gentles her, traces silk-soft kisses across her shoulders, then down across her breasts. Cassandra shakes with need as Leliana moves between her legs, feels hot breath on sensitive skin. When a hot mouth kisses her sex she feels herself pulled taut with pleasure, surprised at how easily she could come from that kiss alone. _Maker! Is this what it feels like to Leliana when she-?_ Her hands seek purchase within the sheets as sensations become too much to bear and she wills herself to remain as still as she can as the soft heat of Leliana's tongue quickly sends her over the edge. 

Leliana lies next to her, their legs entangled, while Cassandra's heart slows down and she feels relaxation flow through her body like summer heat. “You are very good.” She states, matter-of-factly. 

Leliana giggles, deeper than usual. “I know what I like.” A pause. “Do you?”

Cassandra's relaxation fades in a flash as her mind reels, bringing up for her perusal so many pages of books she has read – things she has wondered about. “I-” She falters. 

“You don't have to touch if you don't want to.” Leliana speaks into her silence. “Will you tell me what to do?”

Cassandra turns to her lover now, opens her eyes. The woman next to her looks earnest, vulnerable. Cassandra's heart aches for her – for them. She nods, finds Leliana's hand and holds it, draws courage from their love. 

Closing her eyes again she brings the hand up to her lips – she knows it is scarred and rough - kisses wrists, fingers, breathing in familiar scents of skin, soap and apples. “I want to touch _you_. I am not certain,“ she says truthfully, “how this will go, but I love you.” 

“My love.” Leliana replies, a little breathless. 

Cassandra smiles into her hand. 

“I have some idea of what your body might like, of course.” 

Cassandra snorts. “I should hope so.” 

Leliana laughs and withdraws her hand. “Alright, I will do my best.”

The memories of their first nights together have faded a little, but Cassandra remembers nervous, clumsy passion mixed with the reverent explorations of each other's bodies. She has longed for months to return to Leliana – to pick up where they had to part ways because of duty. 

She still does not want to see the woman beside her, but instead listens to Leliana's breathing quicken and the rustling of fabric. Feels the movement on the mattress beside her. Imagines it is Leliana lying there, touching herself. Imagines herself being touched by Leliana. 

She reaches out, finds Leliana's elbow. 

“Should I stop?” Leliana whispers. 

In reply Cassandra traces the arm down to the hand she knows well. Mirrors Leliana's offer of guidance. “Can I...?”

“Please.” Leliana's voice is rougher now – heavy with want. 

Cassandra concentrates, brows furrowed on translating this puppetry of her own body to what she has done many times before. Sends long fingers into slick, familiar depths. Deeper, yes, as she hears Leliana gasp and feels her drive herself down onto their hands. 

When Cassandra finally feels Leliana shudder and strain beneath her hand they are both breathless and hot, thrumming with exertion and spent desire. 

Beside her Leliana laughs deeply. “That was...”

“... educational?” Cassandra supplies, feeling light with exhaustion, relief and mirth. Lying beside each other – this is home, strange as it may be.

Leliana hums and punctuates it with a heavy sigh. “Still, I would love for you to look at me again – in my own body.”

Cassandra opens her eyes, studies the ornate ceiling above them. “I do not cherish the thought of touching that cursed thing again.”

“Neither do I.” Leliana sighs again. “Though it cannot be helped, it seems.”

“And we trust that what this woman said is true?”

“I doubt that the outcome of what we do could worsen our situation, Cassandra. Either we will be able to reverse the spell – or we will not.”

Cassandra growls. “Then bring it out and let's have it done with.”

***

They have drawn the curtains and flickering shadows of ravens diving past their window are the only disturbance of the muted light in Leliana's bedroom now.

Between them, in its artfully crafted chest of dark wood, cushioned by rich, dark velvet sits the obsidian statuette. In the shadows the smooth stone is impossibly dark and Leliana shivers a little, knowing now the power it holds. 

When she carefully takes it out she sees shapes, legs and arms. Two bodies entwined – melded to almost become one. Is it a trick of the mind or do they shift slightly as the muted light is reflected? Her unease begins to fade as she admires the beauty of its craftsmanship – the soft curves of the bodies bring memories of Cassandra and herself, making her squirm with remembered desire. She glances up from the sculpture to Cassandra's face, who is studying it with similar rapt attention, frowning but biting her lip. After a moment's hesitation her hand joins Leliana's on the smooth obsidian. Is it just Cassandra's heat she feels – or is the statue itself now warm to the touch?

They kiss tentatively, tenderly – then with sudden fervor as desire and pleasure take hold of Leliana as if called forth by magic – had it been like this before? She remembers the drugged feeling of beatific joy of finally feeling Cassandra's body come together with hers, feels removed slightly from herself, swept up in a current of want and need. Bliss and shocks of desire – then numbness and exhaustion. She feels enveloped in water, floating but too heavy-limbed to move. She is reassured by Cassandra's presence. She sleeps. 

***

Cold air. Cassandra shivers – then startles awake. The room is light, the window open. Outlined against the setting sun she sees Leliana standing, leaning easily against the windowsill, her red hair a halo trimmed with the fading light coming from the west. 

Cassandra stretches, luxuriating in the worn welcome of her own body's response, shaking off the haze of sleep.

Suddenly, Leliana beside her - no longer a frozen idol but the woman she loves.

Leliana's kisses her and smiles. “Welcome back.”

_Home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who let me talk ad nauseam about the Hands, who commented and talked to me about this fic. You are all wonderful. <3
> 
> I still have left over ideas that will be the basis for some later fluff piece or epilogue for them - but for now they are home and deserve some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to amarmeme and MissRachelThalberg for the beta-ing - and RipplesofAqua for the cheering on and advice!
> 
> Thank you to [sandalinbohemia](https://twitter.com/sandalinbohemia) for the cool cover art!


End file.
